#1 New York Times bestselling author Robyn Carr creates an emotional and uplifting ensemble of characters in this rags-to-riches-to-rags novel about women, friendship and the complex path to happiness

In the aftermath of her financier husband’s suicide, Emma Shay Compton’s dream life is shattered. Richard Compton stole his clients’ life savings to fund a lavish life in New York City and, although she was never involved in the business, Emma bears the burden of her husband’s crimes. She is left with nothing.

Only one friend stands by her, a friend she’s known since high school, who encourages her to come home to Sonoma County. But starting over isn’t easy, and Sonoma is full of unhappy memories, too. And people she’d rather not face, especially Riley Kerrigan.

Riley and Emma were like sisters—until Riley betrayed Emma, ending their friendship. Emma left town, planning to never look back. Now, trying to stand on her own two feet, Emma can’t escape her husband’s reputation and is forced to turn to the last person she thought she’d ever ask for help—her former best friend. It’s an uneasy reunion as both women face the mistakes they’ve made over the years. Only if they find a way to forgive each other—and themselves—can each of them find the life she wants.

Also available fromROBYN CARR

WHAT WE FIND

FOUR FRIENDS

A SUMMER IN SONOMA

NEVER TOO LATE

RUNAWAY MISTRESS

BLUE SKIES

THE WEDDING PARTY

THE HOUSE ON OLIVE STREET

Thunder Point

WILDEST DREAMS

A NEW HOPE

ONE WISH

THE HOMECOMING

THE PROMISE

THE CHANCE

THE HERO

THE NEWCOMER

THE WANDERER

Virgin River

MY KIND OF CHRISTMAS

SUNRISE POINT

REDWOOD BEND

HIDDEN SUMMIT

BRING ME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

HARVEST MOON

WILD MAN CREEK

PROMISE CANYON

MOONLIGHT ROAD

ANGEL’S PEAK

FORBIDDEN FALLS

PARADISE VALLEY

TEMPTATION RIDGE

SECOND CHANCE PASS

A VIRGIN RIVER CHRISTMAS

WHISPERING ROCK

SHELTER MOUNTAIN

VIRGIN RIVER

Grace Valley

DEEP IN THE VALLEY

JUST OVER THE MOUNTAIN

DOWN BY THE RIVER

The Life She Wants

Robyn Carr

www.mirabooks.co.uk

This is for Therese Plummer, beloved narrator, gifted actress and the voice of my heart.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Booklist

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Copyright

Prologue

When the truth became brutally evident she wondered how it had escaped her for so long.

Emma Shay Compton knew that her marriage to Richard looked like a fairy tale to many and though she had loved Richard, she had always felt something was lacking. She couldn’t put her finger on it, it was so vague. Richard was good to her, generous, though he was an extremely busy man, and soon after their wedding he became remote. Distant. She told herself mega-rich brokers don’t sit around the house coddling their young wives; they work sixteen-hour days. They’re never far from their phones. They seem to command multitudes. And if a person, even his wife, wanted to get on his calendar, she had to plan ahead. So, whenever she felt that something was wrong with her marriage, she’d blame herself.

When Richard’s lawyers began to meet with him to discuss problems with the SEC, she barely noticed. When she asked him about media reports that his company was being investigated for securities fraud, he calmly said, “Slow news day.”

Then he lectured her. “Pay attention to the financial pages—it happens every day. Several multibillion-dollar banking and investment corporations are currently being investigated. The SEC has to justify its existence somehow. I resent the time suck, but it won’t last long.”

She didn’t worry about it, though she did pay attention as he suggested. Of course he was right—there were many investigations, steep fines, reorganizations, buyouts, companies shutting down. The banking and investment world was under very close scrutiny.

Then he said they had to appear in court, he and his legal team. He wanted her by his side and asked if she could get it on her schedule and she laughed. “I’m not the one with a full schedule, Richard.”

He smiled his perfect, confident, calm smile. He touched her cheek. “You won’t have to do or say anything.”

The morning they were to appear in court he had noticed the suit she laid over the chair and said, “Perfect.” Then he went into his bathroom. Sitting at her dressing table, she was smoothing lotion on her legs. She heard the water running in his sink. And then she heard, “Son of a bitch!”

He’d cut himself shaving and swore—not unusual for him. But she met her own eyes in the mirror. Suddenly she knew. She’d been living a lie and everything said about him was true.

Her husband was a cold, calculating liar and thief. And she couldn’t pretend anymore.

Chapter One

It’s the little things that will break you. Emma Shay had been thinking about that a lot lately. She stood strong while everything was taken from her, while she was virtually imprisoned at a little motel near the Jersey shore, while her husband was buried, while the media spun a sordid tale of deceit and thievery that implied she’d been aware, if not complicit, in her late husband’s crimes. Stood. Strong. But, when the heel broke on her best sling-back pumps and she tumbled down the courthouse steps, she collapsed in tears. The photo was printed everywhere, even People magazine. When she was asked to please stop coming to her yoga studio, she thought she would die of shame and cried herself to sleep. No one had ever explained to her that the last straw weighed almost nothing.

Everything in her Manhattan apartment and vacation home had been auctioned off. She packed up some practical items to take with her and donated some of her casual clothing to women’s shelters. Of course anything of value—the art, crystal, china, silver and jewelry had been seized quickly, even items she could prove had nothing to do with Richard’s business, including wedding gifts from friends. They took her designer clothing. Her Vera Wang wedding gown was gone. She was allowed to keep a couple sets of good sheets, towels, one set of kitchenware, some glasses, a few place mats, napkins and so on. She had a box of photos, most from before Richard. She stuffed it all in her Prius. The Jag was gone, of course.

She had been offered a financial settlement, since they couldn’t establish that she had anything to do with Richard’s Ponzi scheme; couldn’t prove it since she was innocent. She hadn’t testified against him—not out of loyalty or because it was her legal prerogative, but rather because she had nothing to say, nothing upon which to leverage some kind of deal. She hadn’t been in court every day out of support for Richard but because it was the best way for her to learn about the crimes he was accused of. She had come into the marriage with nine thousand dollars in savings; she left as a widow, keeping nine thousand in a checking account. It would be her emergency fund. She started a trip across the country, leaving New York behind and heading for Sonoma County, where she grew up.

She’d given it all a great deal of thought. She’d been thinking about it for months before Richard’s death. She could’ve kept the entire settlement and retired to the Caribbean. Or maybe Europe. She’d been fond of Switzerland. She could change her name, color her hair, lie about her past... But eventually people would figure her out and then what? Run again?

Instead, she surrendered the settlement, gave up everything she could have kept. She didn’t want Richard’s ill-gotten gains. Even though she hadn’t swindled anyone, she couldn’t, in good conscience, touch any of it.

There were people she knew back in the Santa Rosa area, a few she’d stayed in touch with. The area was familiar to her. There wasn’t much family anymore—her stepmother, Rosemary, had moved to Palm Springs with her third husband. As far as she knew, Emma’s stepsister, Anna, and half sister, Lauren, still lived in the house they’d all grown up in. They’d all washed their hands of Emma when Richard was indicted. In fact, the last time she’d talked to her stepmother was right before Richard’s death, when all the walls were tumbling down. Emma was literally in hiding from the angry victims of Richard’s fraud—victims who believed Emma had gotten away with some of their money. Rosemary had said, “Well, your greed has certainly cost you this time.”

“Rosemary, I didn’t do anything,” Emma reminded her.

And then Rosemary said what everyone thought. “So you say.”

Well, Rosemary had always thought the worst of her. But Emma hoped the people she knew in Sonoma County wouldn’t. She’d grown up there, gone to Catholic school and public high school there. And she thought it was extremely unlikely any clients, now victims, of Richard’s New York-based investment company hailed from the little towns in Sonoma County.

Her closest friend, possibly her only friend at this point, Lyle Dressler, found her a little furnished bungalow in Sebastopol. Lyle and his partner lived in the town, so she had some moral support there.

Emma was thirty-four and had married Richard Compton nine years ago. He was a sharp, handsome, successful forty-five when they married. At twenty-five she’d been completely under his spell. He might have been twenty years older than her, but forty-five was hardly considered old. He was fit, handsome, brilliant, rich and powerful. In fact, he was considered one of the most desired bachelors in New York City.

Rosemary and Emma’s sisters had certainly liked him then. They were eager to travel to New York to attend any social event Richard would grudgingly include them in. But they hadn’t offered one ounce of support to Emma during the takedown.

The few years of marriage before the investigation and indictment hadn’t been heaven on earth, but they weren’t bad. Her complaints seemed to be standard among people she knew—he was busy, preoccupied, they didn’t spend enough time together even when they were traveling. The first friends she’d made through work in New York had gradually drifted away once she settled into her multimillion-dollar marriage. She’d never quite fit in with the elite crowd, so she’d been a little lonely. It seemed like she was always around people, doing her part with committee work, exercising, decorating, entertaining, feeling that she must be indispensable to Richard. However, he was all she really had. It was a dark and terrible day when she realized he was a complete stranger.

Before her fifth anniversary, the investigation had begun. Before the seventh, indictments had been handed down and assets frozen. She spent her eighth anniversary in court. Richard’s defense attorneys had managed many a delay but eventually there was a trial—a circus of a trial—and she appeared to be the trusting, good wife, head held high. Richard’s mother and sister had not come to the trial and refused interviews. She’d always assumed they didn’t think she was good enough for Richard, but after the trial she changed her opinion. They must have known all about him. He was dark and empty inside.

He never talked to her about it, at least not until the ugly, bitter end. When she asked about the investigation he just said they were out to get him, that business was tough but he was tougher, that they’d never prove anything. At the end there had been a few brief, nasty but revealing discourses. How could you? How could I not? How could you justify the greed? My greed? How about their greed? Do they have to justify it? They wanted me to do anything to make them money! They wanted me to spin straw into gold even if I had to lie, cheat and steal! Each one of them just wanted their payday before it all broke!

The feds proved everything with ease. Employees cut deals and testified against him. Truckloads of documentation proved securities fraud, theft, mail fraud, wire fraud, money laundering... The list was long. When the end was near, when he’d attempted a getaway and been unceremoniously returned by US Marshals, when his offshore accounts had been located and identified, when he faced a long jail sentence with no nest egg left hidden away, Richard shot himself.

Of course no one believed Emma had no idea. Apparently people thought he came home from the office and bared his soul over a drink. He had not.

The Richard she knew was obviously a con man, a chameleon. He could be so charming, so devoted. But he always had a plan and always wanted something more. Why wouldn’t I marry you? You were an outstanding investment. Perfect for the role! It’s a well-known fact—people trust married men more than single men. He was a narcissist, a manipulator, a liar and cheat. He was so damn good at it, a person could feel almost honored to be manipulated and lied to by him. He had the looks of Richard Gere, the brilliance of Steve Jobs, the ethics of Bernie Madoff. Thank God he wasn’t as successful as Bernie. Richard had only managed to steal about a hundred million.

What did she know? She knew he was private; he didn’t talk about work, which she thought was normal behavior for a powerful man. He was an amazing communicator socially and in business, but once he stopped courting her, he stopped telling her stories about his family, his youth, college, about his early years on Wall Street. She knew he didn’t have many old friends, just a lot of business contacts. She never met college pals or colleagues from his early professional days. He did routinely ask her about her day, however. He’d ask her about her schedule, her projects, what she did, who she talked to, what was happening in her world. When he was home, that is—he was often working late or traveling. The thing that set Richard apart from other, mediocre con men—he knew how to listen. People, herself included, thought they’d learned something about him when he hadn’t said a word about himself. But he listened to them. Raptly. They were thrilled by this attention.

One nine-year marriage, a few years of which had been weirdly adequate, five years of which had been a nightmare. Now she wondered when the nightmare would end.

* * *

Emma drove directly to Lyle’s flower shop, Hello, Gorgeous, named for Barbra Streisand, of course. Lyle had been wonderful to her through this whole ordeal. He hadn’t been able to be in New York with her very often. Not only was it a great, costly distance but there was also the small complication that his partner, Ethan, had never been particularly fond of Emma, though he didn’t really know her. Lyle had made a couple of trips, however, and called almost daily during the rough patches. She understood about Ethan. But Lyle and Emma had been friends long before Ethan came into his life. For reasons unknown, Ethan had never warmed to her. Emma suspected good old-fashioned jealousy, as if Emma might bring out Lyle’s straight side or something. So Emma and Ethan had always had a rather cool regard for each other. But since Richard’s debacle, Ethan’s regard had gone from cool to frigid.

But—and this was an important but—if Ethan went on about his dislike and disapproval of Emma too much, he was going to lose Lyle, and he might be bitchy but he wasn’t stupid.

Emma stood outside the shop and took a deep breath before walking through the door. And of course, who should be behind the counter but Ethan. “Well, Emma, I see you made it,” he said as though it took effort to be kind.

“Yes, thank you,” she answered carefully.

“Rough journey?” Ethan surprised her by asking.

“In every way,” she said.

“Well, there you are,” Lyle said as he came from the back and rushed over to embrace her. “Would you like a cup of coffee or something before we head over to Penny’s house?”

She shook her head. “I parked down the block in the only available space. I’d like to get going—I have a lot to do.”

“Sure,” he said. He turned to Ethan. “I’m going to give Em a hand, visit with Penny a little. I’ll probably grab something to eat with them. I won’t be late.”

Ethan lifted his chin and sniffed, but his reply was perfectly appropriate. “I think I’ll drop in on Nora and Ed. Sounds like a good night to get a little uncle time.”

“Excellent. Give them my love.”

Then, hand on her elbow, Lyle escorted her out of the shop. “I’m parked right here. I’ll drive you down to your car,” he said.

“Oh, please, no,” she said, laughing. “My butt hurts so bad, I hate to even get back in the car. I’m going to walk—it’s only a block. And I have a cooler with some drinks for us. Listen, I don’t want to...” She tilted her head toward the store. “I don’t want to cause any friction. If you’ll just get me to the house and introduce me to your friend, I can manage from there.”

“No worries, Emma. I explained to Ethan days ago that I was going to lend a hand when you got here.” He chuckled. “He was very adult about it. It’s time for him to pay his sister a visit anyway. They live a mile away and Ethan doesn’t visit as often as he should. I think I visit more than he does—we have a gorgeous niece. He can go over there and complain about me and my stubborn ways. Besides, I want to make sure you’re all right.”

She smiled at him with gratitude. “I might never be all right again,” she said. “All I want right now is a little quiet and anonymity.”

“Have you heard from Rosemary?” he asked.

“I did her the courtesy of emailing her that I’d be moving to a small bungalow in Sebastopol and told her I could be reached through you. I don’t even trust her enough to give her my new cell number—I bet she’d sell it to the press. I take it you haven’t heard from her?” He shook his head and this came as no surprise. Rosemary had been in touch when she thought Richard was rich and powerful; after his fall from grace, she behaved as if she didn’t know him. “We haven’t made amends. She wasn’t exactly supportive.”

“Your sisters should be helping you now,” he said.

They had never done anything to help her. “We’ve never been that kind of family,” she said. Indeed, they weren’t family at all.

“I can relate,” Lyle said.

Emma knew Lyle had always had a hard time with his father, but at least his mother adored him. She gave his upper arm a squeeze. “Well, you’ve saved my life here. I’d be lost without this little place you found.”

“It found me. Penny is elderly, but don’t use that word around her. She’s what we’d call spry. Almost eighty and still walking three miles a day, gardening and playing the occasional game of tennis. But the problem with living forever, the money thins out eventually.”

“And she knows everything?” Emma asked.

He nodded. “As you wished. She said, ‘We’ve all hooked up with the wrong person here and there, poor girl.’ This little bungalow is a sort of guesthouse, a casita, though her house, the main house, isn’t that much bigger. Prepare yourself, it’s all quite small. She doesn’t need a keeper. No care involved. But a little bit of rent will probably help you both.” He shook his head. “I don’t know that you’ve ever lived in anything this simple, Em. It’s old, musty, small and tacky.”

“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to it.”

* * *

The guesthouse was actually a remodeled freestanding garage with a wall and large picture window where the doors once were. The window looked out onto a pleasant tree-lined street. It was a tiny, two-room bungalow with a small bathroom and galley kitchen. A patio separated the guesthouse from Penelope Pennington’s two-bedroom house. “And of course you’re welcome to use the patio at any time,” Penny assured her. “And if you ever have any serious cooking to do, feel free to borrow my kitchen.”

It was an attractive little arrangement. Penny had the driveway removed years before and now there was a carport and storage unit. In front of both little houses and on either side of the driveway and carport were two small patches of grass, shrubs, trees and flowers. From the patio one could reach Emma’s little abode on the right or Penny’s on the left. A tall, white fence with a gate bordered the property.

It took less than half an hour to unload Emma’s small car. There wasn’t much furniture in the bungalow—a bed and bureau, a small table and two chairs, a couple of lamps, a small sofa and two armchairs. She had her own bedding and kitchenware. She found the guesthouse quaint and cozy. Her boxes and suitcases had yet to be unpacked, but she didn’t care. Lyle went off to a nearby market to get dinner, bringing Penny and Emma a huge Greek salad, some hummus, flatbread and a bottle of wine. They had their dinner at Penny’s, sitting around her little dining table, and Emma loved her at once.

Then at last it was just Emma and Lyle, sitting in her cozy living room with a final glass of wine. She sat in a musty old overstuffed chair upholstered with a floral pattern, her feet up on an ottoman that didn’t quite match. Lyle relaxed on the sofa, his feet up on the coffee table.

“This place really needs a fluff and buff,” he said.

“I love it,” she said. “I think this will be my reading chair.”

“How can you read with the flowers in that gaudy print screaming at you?”

She laughed at him.

“Have you given any thought to what kind of job you’re going to get?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, taking a thoughtful sip. “I was considering being a life coach. What do you think?”

“You can certainly provide plenty of experience with what not to do,” he said.

“I can honestly say I haven’t felt this relaxed in years,” she said.

Lyle was quiet for a moment. “Emmie, I don’t know what it’s going to be like for you around here. It’s a quiet town, but not without its resident gossips and petty meanness. Know what I mean?”

“I grew up around here, remember?” she said. “No matter where I go, it’s going to follow me. But I was never indicted for any crime. And believe me, they looked hard and long.”

“I just want you to be ready. In case.”

“In case people are nasty to me or snigger when I walk by? That’s why I came here rather than trying to find some new place where I could be a stranger with a new identity—everyone figures it out eventually. Lies don’t last—Richard was proof of that. Let’s just get it over with. I was married to the late Richard Compton, the infamous broker and thief. There’s no way to undo it. And I didn’t have to think about it long—the stress of trying to keep it secret is something I’m just not up to. I could change my name, color my hair, even get a nose job if I had any money, but eventually everyone is going to know it’s me. It’s hopeless, Lyle—Google me and see for yourself.”

“Under Emma Shay?”

“And Emma Shay Compton, Emma Compton, Emma Catherine Shay.”

“Dear God,” he groaned. “I hope it dwindles away quickly,” he said.

“It’s all on the record. Anyone who’s curious is welcome to read all about it. There are even a couple of books, though they’re not very accurate.”

“How’d he do it, Em?”

She knew exactly what he was talking about. Richard’s suicide. She took a breath. She was surprised he hadn’t just looked it up—it was splattered, like Richard’s brains, across all the papers and internet news sites.

“After he’d attempted to run via a colleague’s private jet with a fake passport, he was returned to jail and held without bond. The lawyers managed to negotiate house arrest with an ankle bracelet. After the guilty verdict was returned he tried to negotiate sentencing by giving up offshore account numbers, hoping to reduce his sentence. But no matter what, he was going to jail for a long time. He opened the hidden safe behind the bookcase in his home office, pulled out his loaded Glock and shot himself. In the head.”

Lyle shook his head. “He didn’t want to go to prison...”

“I’m sure it was more than that,” she said. “Oh, there was no doubt prison would be horrendous, but that’s not why he did it. There was no material wealth left. There were no more offshore or Swiss accounts. It was really over. He was going to go to prison for fifty years and even if he was paroled early or could escape, there was nothing to allow him to retire quietly in Aruba, or some other remote island. With his stash.” She sighed. “It was the most important thing to him. The wealth.”

“I’m surprised the police didn’t know about the safe or the gun,” he said. “Didn’t you say they searched the apartment?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know if they ever saw it—they weren’t looking for it. They confiscated his computers and lots of files from home and his office, all his electronics, but their warrant wasn’t for things like guns or drugs. I didn’t know about the gun.”

“Did he do anything at all to try to protect you?” Lyle asked.

She just shook her head.

“And after he was buried?”

“It was a couple of weeks yet until everything was gone and the paperwork on the auction and the sale of the apartment was final. I closed his office door and slept on a cot in the kitchen. It was the safest place for me. Marshals were watching the apartment and there was a doorman.” She made a face. “It was so horrible.”

“I’m only going to say this one more time, Emmie, then we’re moving on. I’m just so, so sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Listen, you go home. And tell Ethan that I appreciate how decent he’s been and assure him I’m not going to be pestering the two of you. I found I do very well on my own. It’s lovely to be near you, but you don’t have to worry that this out-of-place girlfriend is going to be the needy type and make you feel invaded. I’m not going to be your third wheel.”

“We have some very nice friends, a lot of them gay men, and there are more than enough third wheels in our crowd. Don’t worry about it. Call us whenever you feel like it.”

“You’ve been wonderful. You’ve always been a better friend to me than I’ve been to you,” she said.

“Not true. There’ve been very kind gestures here and there...”

“Shhhh,” she warned. Before the trouble began, she had a household budget that was ridiculously large and she economized, leaving her a nice balance. It was her money and she used some to help fund the start-up of Hello, Gorgeous. Best if no one ever knew. Lyle had been interviewed about their relationship, possibly even investigated, but had never been any kind of suspect. In fact, they didn’t speak of it. Emma was fairly sure Ethan didn’t even know the details.

“Suffice it to say, I’m glad you’re here,” Lyle said. “I’ve missed you. And now there are a couple of things I should tell you. People have asked about you, which of course they would. But a couple of old friends have asked a few times recently. Asked what you would do now. Riley came into the shop and asked if you were all right. She knows we’ve always been in touch, just as you know I keep up with her, but where you two are concerned I made it a policy to never carry tales between you. She wanted to know if there was anything you needed.”

“Guilty conscience,” Emma said.

“Easy, Emma. She might be one of the few people who can actually understand what you’re going through,” he said. “I know you’re not sympathetic, but she had to rebuild her life after you left. And Jock called. Divorced and living in Santa Rosa. He wanted to know if there was any chance you’d be coming back this way when it was all over. He said to tell you that if you need anything...”

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Very sincerely. I’m not his biggest fan, but he did offer support.”

She said nothing. Of course she knew they were both here, Riley and Jock. Back when they were all so young, her best friend and her boyfriend. She’d returned for brief visits a few times after leaving so long ago and had not spoken to them, but she always knew they were still around. When she decided to come back here for good she knew it was possible she’d run into one or both of them eventually.

“Might be time to move on from that haunt, Emma,” Lyle said.

“I have moved on,” she answered. “I’ve moved on from a lot of things. And I’m not going back one step.”

Chapter Two

When Emma Catherine Shay was nine years old, a fourth grader at St. Pascal’s elementary school in Santa Rosa, a couple of new kids came to school. Riley and Adam Kerrigan. Riley was in Emma’s class and the teacher asked her to be responsible for helping Riley get acquainted and adjusted.

Emma, known for being friendly and a child who wished to please, was annoyed. First of all, she already had two best friends—Susanna and Paula—and Riley’s hanging around was interfering with her routine. Second, Riley apparently couldn’t talk. She followed along or sat at the lunch table all quiet and nervous. When she did speak, she could barely be heard. Third, and Emma knew this was wrong, but the girl was a rag doll. She wore old clothes that didn’t even fit her right.

Riley’s older brother, Adam, so somber and quiet, waited after school to walk home together so at least Emma didn’t have that chore. And all of it—spending time with Riley—was monotonous. But, so Sister Judith would be proud of her, Emma did the best she could with the odd little creature with the unhappy personality. At the end of the second day Riley surprised Emma when she spoke softly. “I know where to go and what to do now. You can go be with your friends.”

Emma felt like a turd. “We’ll just all hang out together,” she said, hating her overzealous conscience.

Then, over the next few days, Emma learned that Riley, Adam and their mother came to Santa Rosa to live with Riley’s grandparents in their tiny house because Riley’s dad had gotten very sick and died. So now Riley wasn’t just shy and poor, she was also bereaved. Emma was stuck with her.

But Emma couldn’t deny that she was completely sympathetic—she’d lost her own mother, though she had been too young to remember her. Her father had remarried when she was just a toddler, probably largely to have help with his child. He had married Rosemary, an efficient and hardworking widow with a three-year-old daughter, Anna. Three years later they had a baby together, another girl. Baby Lauren. The only mother she had ever known was her stepmother, and of the three children, Rosemary liked Emma least. Emma understood by the time she was ten that it had been a marriage of convenience.

Emma was plotting her escape from Riley when a few things shifted as Riley got more comfortable with her new surroundings. First off, she was hilarious and once they got laughing, they could hardly stop. When she wasn’t feeling scared and lonely, Riley’s voice was strong and confident. She was very good in school and rose to the head of the class quickly. She could help Emma and not the other way around. And Riley’s mother, June, turned out to be the most wonderful, loving, fun and positive woman in the entire world, embracing Emma and making her feel so cherished. Riley’s grandparents acted like it was their lucky day the Kerrigans moved in even though they were stuffed into the little house. They were crowded and money was tight but there was more laughter there than there had ever been in Emma’s house. Riley and Adam wore hand-me-down clothes, their grandparents were elderly, and June Kerrigan cleaned houses and waitressed to make ends meet, but Emma was always welcome, made to feel like a member of the family.

Emma’s home life wasn’t nearly so happy. Rosemary wasn’t abusive in any obvious way but she was emotionally flat where Emma was concerned.

Rosemary complained about how hard she had to work at the DMV, how much stress she had in her life, how messy and lazy Emma’s father was, her weight, her friends and a variety of issues. Aside from Anna and Lauren, there didn’t seem to be much she enjoyed. Although Rosemary always referred to Emma and Lauren as her daughters, there was little doubt that Anna was her favorite. It wasn’t long before Emma was happier at Riley’s house than at her own. And hardly surprisingly, Rosemary didn’t mind her absence at home much.

We were going to be each other’s maid of honor. We were going to have children at the same time so they could be best friends, too.

From the day Sister Judith forced them together until high school graduation, Emma and Riley were inseparable. Riley’s grandpa called them conjoined twins. They stuck together through thick and thin, through the sudden death of Emma’s father when she was sixteen, Rosemary’s third marriage to Vince Kingston, and every issue that plagued teenagedom. Their friendship was cast in iron and they had very few tiffs. Until they fell out over a boy. One Jock Curry. Yes, it was his given name. He was named for a grandfather.

They’d both crushed on him in high school. They thought he was smart, sexy, athletic, funny. Every girl wanted him and he apparently wanted every girl, but once he settled on Emma during their senior year, that was it for him. He said his roaming days were over. Of course, he was all of seventeen at the time. He tried to talk Emma into going to the same community college he’d chosen or at least staying close to home, but she had a scholarship and was going to Seattle Pacific University, known for its interior-design program. Of the two girls, she was the least likely to get a scholarship, but even with one, Riley’s family couldn’t afford any part of the expense of living away from home or attending an out-of-state university. Emma could manage with working part-time, taking out loans, and Rosemary was able to send a little money—fifty here, fifty there. And she had big dreams; she was going to design the interiors of five-star hotels and luxurious mansions!

Riley enrolled in the same community college as Jock, lived at home and began cleaning houses just like her mom always had.

Jock had no specific plans except to get the minimum education, work part time, play a little baseball and enjoy himself.

Emma didn’t suspect anything was going on in her absence until right before Christmas break. Riley was acting strangely. Jock and Riley were hanging out together a lot, but shouldn’t that be expected? Her guy and her best friend, going to school together and everything? She trusted them, after all. Then she had this nagging feeling it wasn’t all right, that it was a betrayal. Riley was different toward her; Jock was a little too much himself—jovial and confident and relaxed. He’d gone from ragging on her about taking more time to talk to him on the phone to not noticing how long it had been since they’d had one of those long, whispery, late-night conversations.

She suspected her best friend was too close to her boyfriend. When Emma confronted her, Riley burst into tears, admitted it, swore it wasn’t entirely her fault, that Jock had taken advantage of the fact that she’d always liked him a lot, that she had been so lonely without her best friend.

Jock had said, “Hey, grow up. It didn’t really mean anything. Besides, what did you expect? You didn’t have time for either one of us.”

Emma never really did understand how something like that just happens, especially when both Riley and Jock insisted they hadn’t meant it to, that it was all a terrible mistake. Then they both turned it back on her, as if it was her fault for going away to school. All she knew was that she was devastated and had lost the two most important people in her life. She could never trust either one of them again and the feeling was so painful it doubled her over. She went back to Seattle after Christmas break completely decimated by the hurt. She tried to date and that didn’t go well. Riley wrote her a couple of letters, left her a few messages, but Emma was too hurt to respond. And she didn’t go back to Santa Rosa until summer break. Even then, she hadn’t wanted to—there was nothing there for her anymore. Her father was dead, her stepmother was a cold fish who clearly hated her, her stepmother’s new husband was an old lecher, her sisters didn’t care about her...

She didn’t stay in Santa Rosa long. She learned what no one wanted to tell her. Oh, but Emma’s stepsister Anna couldn’t wait to tell her—Riley was pregnant. While Emma was at school, those two had been knocking boots like mad and now they were having a baby. Emma bid a tearful goodbye to Lyle, cleared everything out of her father’s house, the house she grew up in, and headed back to Seattle as fast as she could. She got herself a job, joined a sorority, visited Santa Rosa very rarely and very briefly. When she did go, she stayed with Lyle.

Even Seattle wasn’t far enough away. Upon her graduation, she secured a job in New York and moved to the other coast. Within three years she was a buyer for one of the largest independent department stores in the US and traveled all over the world for her household wares. She was a specialist in interiors and had fantasies about starting her own design firm.

But then she met Richard...

If there was one thing Emma had learned from the experience it was that she could hold a grudge. The fact that Riley’s relationship with Jock hadn’t lasted, proving that he wasn’t exactly a good catch, didn’t lessen her feelings of being betrayed. The undeniable truth that she’d dodged a bullet when her relationship with Jock fell apart didn’t give her much comfort. The further fact that she’d gone on to marry a handsome, rich, successful man also hadn’t induced her to forgive and forget.

But then what she went through with Richard—his fraud, deceit, demise—taught her something else. There were bigger things to worry about than a fifteen-year-old feud with a childhood friend.

There was no going back, Emma reminded herself. She was moving forward.

* * *

Emma hadn’t worked outside her home and marriage for nine years but boy, had she worked in it. She visited several employment agencies with her résumé, her degree, even details of her experience volunteering at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, working on gigantic fund-raisers, massive decorating projects and entertaining on an enormous scale, but that simply wouldn’t do it after the interview. She felt it was in her best interest to be honest, then immediately doubted her wisdom in that. If they didn’t want to take her on as a client because they feared trusting her, then they didn’t want her because of the potential negative press attention it might draw to them. Clients might leave businesses that employed her because of her notoriety. Of course, they didn’t say that. They said they were sorry, there didn’t seem to be anything available, but if she’d leave a number...

She had to throw her net wider. She had a list of businesses to apply to that ranged from galleries and stores to convention centers, wineries and even political parties. She stopped explaining that her late husband had been the Richard Compton and instead said that after a bad marriage, she was reentering the workforce. After two weeks with zero success, she went to several smaller employment agencies, not the ones that specialized in decorating, customer service, event planning and those things that were ideal for her. After all, she could always type and file. She could operate a computer. She thought the reception she received was positive...until they looked into her background, which was a simple matter nowadays with a computer search. Even though she wasn’t up-front about her history, they obviously Googled her and she was politely informed there was nothing available that might suit her.

After four weeks, she was inconsolable.

“Isn’t this some kind of discrimination?” she asked Lyle.

“It definitely is,” Lyle said. “But I’m not sure what kind.”

Just when she thought things couldn’t possibly get bleaker, she took a job in a fast food restaurant. She thought of it as a placeholder until she found a real job. Her boss was nineteen years old. She did everything she was told to do, putting great effort into it. They’d given her an evening shift because she was mature and the restaurant was overrun with high school and college kids. But she had trouble keeping up. She took home a paycheck for five days of shift work at about five hours a day in the amount of $91.75—they deducted FICA, Social Security, state and federal taxes, uniform costs. Her net pay was $3.67 per hour. Her feet and back were killing her.

She wondered if she’d have to succumb to a disguise and create a new identity.

* * *

Emma answered her cell phone knowing it would be Lyle, but praying it would be someone with an offer of a better job. It was Lyle.

“Do you know a man by the name of Aaron Justice?”

She laughed. “Unforgettable. A friend of my father’s. An attorney. He must be a hundred years old by now.”

“More like seventy-five. Apparently one of your sisters said you could be reached through me and he’d love to hear from you. He said maybe you could meet for a coffee or something. He’s been concerned about you. He would like to see you, to assure himself you’re okay.”

“Now, isn’t that sweet,” she said. “It’s not a trap, is it? He’s not representing someone Richard screwed, is he?”

“Does that actually happen?” Lyle asked.

“It hasn’t happened yet, but I’m ready for it.”

“I have his number,” Lyle said. “Call him, ask him what he wants before you make a date to see him. But really, he’s just a little old man.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she said with a laugh. “Aaron is only a little old man on the outside. I think in his day he was a very prominent attorney.”

It took her a few minutes to work up her courage because it would simply break her heart if Aaron Justice were foe, not friend. Her father, a CPA with a small but busy business, was close to Aaron, and Emma had known him all her life. Not only had they seen him and his family socially, Aaron was the lawyer who took care of John Shay’s will and a few other legal matters, too.

“I want only to see you, my dear girl,” Aaron said. “I’ve followed your ordeal in the news and have been concerned. Come and have a cup of coffee with me.”

The very next afternoon that she didn’t have to work they met in a coffee shop in Santa Rosa, and when she saw him, it brought her to tears. He seemed to have gotten smaller, but his embrace was still strong and she might have held on too tight. He was a very dapper, classy gentleman and of course just seeing him again after eighteen years made her miss her father.

They sat in a small booth, ordered coffee and held hands across the table as they caught up on the more personal news. His wife had passed away a few years earlier, his grandsons were teenagers and he’d taken them on a few exciting trips. He was relieved to see her looking so well, as beautiful as ever and he was glad she was back. Finally, after about twenty minutes, he asked her if she could talk about it.

She tried to give him the bullet points; how shocked she was by the facts, stunned to learn she was married to a stranger, how the walls came tumbling down and Richard bailed out. “Once they were satisfied that I had nothing to do with the scheme, I was offered a settlement. My conscience wouldn’t let me take it, of course.”

“Your father would have been proud of that,” Aaron said.

“If my father had witnessed that horrific takedown, he would have been mortified.”

“He was a staunch and conservative man,” Aaron said. “It sounds as if he would have approved of the way you chose to handle it. I hope your father’s trust helped out a bit.”

She laughed. “What trust, Aaron? Rosemary said there wasn’t much.”

“I seem to remember it being a tidy sum for his family.”

“Eighteen years ago, maybe,” Emma said.

He frowned. “I realize you were only a girl and John hadn’t wanted the balances to be reported to anyone—it might’ve filled the three of you girls with fanciful notions, sent you out car shopping or something. But it was divided—your share and those of your sisters could only be used for health and welfare. Rosemary would have needed it to sustain the family, and there was tuition to pay, of course...”

Emma was shaking her head. “I borrowed and had a partial scholarship. She might’ve used it for education for Lauren and Anna.”

“Didn’t Rosemary give you money for college?”

“She sent me spending money from time to time. Maybe she was afraid to touch the money, saving it for her old age. She ended up marrying a real jerk. They moved to Palm Springs.”

“Rosemary changed lawyers immediately,” Aaron said. “I have no idea what’s happened in the last eighteen years, but you were due to inherit from your father’s estate—half at the age of thirty and half at thirty-five. It was important to John that you learn to make your own way and earn a living before you came into any money or you’d have blown it on shoes or something.”

She smiled. “That sounds like him,” she said. “He was so cautious.”

“It was an irrevocable trust, Emma. As trustee, Rosemary could only use your portion on your needs, not on Anna’s or Lauren’s. Have you ever had an accounting done?” Aaron asked.

“Of what?”

“Of your father’s estate. The terms of his will.”

“Aaron, I was married to one of the richest men in New York. Why would I worry about my father’s will? He had a small office in a small town and lectured me if I threw a pen out before it was writing in invisible ink! I wouldn’t call him a tightwad, but he didn’t let go of a dime before he’d squeezed all the juice out of it.”

Aaron laughed. “It’s true. And he married a woman who liked nice things...”

“Well, she didn’t waste any money on me. After my first year of college I admitted defeat with Rosemary and hardly ever came home to visit. And you know what happened when I struck out on my own. I fell in love with and married a thief.”

“May I make a suggestion? You should ask for an accounting of your father’s estate. There’s still the house. It’s a substantial house.”

“She said the mortgage alone was killing her,” Emma pointed out.

“Emma, the house was insured against your father’s death. There was no mortgage. I still have a small practice, mostly just for old clients and friends. If I were your attorney, I could look into this.”

She started to laugh. “Oh, Aaron, you are so sweet. I can’t afford an attorney! I’m working at a fast food restaurant! Besides, if there turned out to be something left of his estate after all these years, would I have to fight for it? Because I can’t even consider going to court. Not ever again.”

“Here’s what would happen. I would see her lawyer or accountant, petition for an accounting of the proceeds of the estate on your behalf, and if there turned out to be something left for you, you’d have to sue. It usually doesn’t go that far unless there are millions at stake. If it’s a small amount, the trustee is usually happy to settle to save money. And if there is anything, I won’t charge a fee of any kind until you can afford it. It wouldn’t be a contingency or percentage, just my usual fee. Which,” he said, laughing at himself, “is a steal.”

“Well, I won’t be suing anyone, that’s for sure. I won’t even ask for anything from her—she hates me and at this point the feeling is mutual. I’m starting over. But you are kind and I appreciate your generosity.”

“Let’s find out, Emma. There was once some money involved. And your father’s house. That was a rich house, wasn’t it? Everyone envied it.”

“He built it with my mother,” she said. “He never said but I think they hoped to have a few children.” She shook her head. “Even the idea of money makes me sick. I live in two rooms. I pinch my pennies in a way that would make John Shay so proud. And I can’t bear the idea of owing you money for services that you’re really doing as a favor.”

“If it turns out there’s nothing there or if you choose not to pursue the recovery of it, my fee will be zero.”

Her eyes got a little round. “Why, Aaron, I think you wouldn’t mind catching Rosemary with her hand in the cookie jar!”

“You found me out,” he said. “John was such a gentle man. She seemed to suck the life out of him.”

“I think he married Rosemary to have help with me,” she said. “It must have been so hard for him. And everyone who knew my mother loved her. I don’t think people even like Rosemary. She’s a hard woman.”

He was quiet for a moment. “John was a good friend. He was careful with his will. It would take months to get an answer, Emma. Months before you have to decide how to proceed. For your peace of mind, I’d be happy to look into this for you.”

She shrugged. “Why not? What can it hurt? I won’t get my hopes up. If Rosemary was involved, I’m sure she’s had a real party spending it. She quit working the week my dad died.”

“Then I have something important to do and it makes me so happy to do it for you.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you came home, Emma.”

* * *

Lyle was finishing up for the day, standing at the counter while he looked at the orders for Saturday delivery. In August sales started picking up again after summer. In summer there weren’t any floral holidays and people had their own blooms. Summer in Sonoma County was pure heaven.

The door to the shop opened and he smiled to see Riley Kerrigan come in. Took her long enough, he thought. He hadn’t seen her in at least a couple of months. She looked fantastic, as usual. You’d never guess by looking at her that she owned a domestic and industrial cleaning service. She looked more like a bank executive or high-powered attorney. After all her years of secondhand clothes followed by scrimping to get by and build her business, Riley was making up for lost time in the wardrobe category.

“Hi,” she said. “I thought I might catch you before you left for the day. How’s it going?”

“It’s all good. How’s everything at Happy Housekeeping?” he asked, knowing full well that was not the name of her business.

“Happy, happy, happy. So. Is she back?”

He nodded. “Over a month now,” he said. “Tell me something—did it take willpower to wait this long to ask?”

“I didn’t expect her to call, if that’s what you’re getting at. How is she?” Riley asked.

“Doing very well, in spite of everything.”

Riley’s smile was very small. “Emma has a way of bouncing back.”

“If she can bounce back from this, she’s a superhero. She stayed in that apartment alone, slept on a cot, even though her husband’s blood was all over his study. Because no one offered her a guest room, not even the legal team who were so well paid. And she wasn’t safe in a hotel—too many victims of Richard’s fraud threatened her. I offered to go out there but she wouldn’t have it—she didn’t want me in jeopardy. She made the drive to California by herself—she said she needed the time alone and away. Her husband has been dead a few months. It took her a month here to find a bad job. She says she’s holding up very well. I’m amazed she’s even standing.”

“I’m sorry she’s going through this, but she wouldn’t want my sympathy or my help. If you think of anything I can do without, you know, getting involved, let me know.”

“Sure,” he said. “She says she’s over it, by the way. Your feud.”

“Me, too,” Riley said. “But still...”

“She said that, too.”

Riley smiled at her dear friend. They’d been the three musketeers in high school—Emma, Lyle and Riley. She gave a quiet laugh and shook her head. “Can I buy the man in the middle a drink?” she asked.

“By all means,” Lyle said. “I think she’s forgiven you by now.”

“Good to know. I still hate her, but I’m not mad at her anymore.”

“Oh, great.” He started turning off lights. “Let’s go drink.”

* * *

Riley stopped by the grocery after a glass of wine with Lyle. They’d been friends for a long time. Usually threesomes don’t work very well, but in this case, Lyle being a guy and all, there was no issue. At least not until Emma and Riley had their epic breakup. Then Lyle was stuck in the middle, trying not to take sides. He’d managed to remain loyal to both women for sixteen years.

She was lost in thought, her hand absently palming a honeydew melon.

“I’m not sure if you’re going to bowl with that or put it in your cart,” a male voice said.

She looked up and smiled. She’d seen this guy before. Starbucks, maybe. “Sorry,” she said, taking the melon, though she didn’t really want it.

“They look good today, don’t they?” he asked. “Hey, do you know where I can find roasted peppers? Fire roasted,” he said, consulting a list.

She shook herself for a second, coming back to grocery land and leaving thoughts of poor Lyle and their triangle far behind. “Um, over there with the olives are some prepared in the jar. That’s all I know about.”

“Artichoke hearts?”

“Same place in the jar, or some in the frozen section.”

“Parmesan?”

She smiled at him. He was very good-looking. “You’re making artichoke dip, aren’t you? Let me see that,” she said. She glanced over the recipe. “There aren’t any roasted peppers in this recipe.”

“I know—it’s for something else. I’m just picking them up for a...a neighbor.”

“Thank goodness. Okay, be sure the artichokes are packed in water, add a half cup of mozzarella, a sprinkle of chili powder and a cup of chopped spinach and some lucky woman will propose.”

“Dynamite. Thank you,” he said, turning to go. Then he turned back and said, “Chili powder?”

“With the spices. Not too much, now.” She blessed him with a sweet smile. Then she resumed her vegetable shopping. Hmm, she thought. A straight guy in the grocery store. If he were gay, he’d know how to make artichoke dip.

Her thoughts fled instantly back to Emma and Lyle. Well, they were going to have to share Lyle. He was the best friend she had.

Chapter Three

Emma faced an entirely new set of priorities. She was able to pick up extra hours at Burger Purgatory and in her spare time she looked for a better or second job. They kept her hours just under full-time to save costs on benefits, but she had to buy health insurance anyway—it was now the law. Terrified to touch that emergency money she had stowed away, she was stretching her money as far as it would go—rent for Penny took the top position because she was certain the elderly darling needed it. Plus, she needed a place to live while she starved to death. Utilities for her little bungalow was second and she conserved dramatically, even shortening the length of her hot showers, which was a huge sacrifice as she now smelled like French fries all the time. Car insurance and gas came next and only then did she buy food. She did manage to eat at the burger joint sometimes, though that was problematic. First of all, it wasn’t part of the deal, but she noticed that all employees partook. There seemed to be an unwritten policy—they’ll never miss a few fries, but let’s not be obvious about it. And never in front of customers. Also, it was not healthy! It was calorie intense, carb heavy and salted to the max. After a few weeks, her pants felt uncomfortably tight and her ankles seemed chronically swollen.

September arrived and with the start of school, the teenage employees vacated the day hours, so at least she worked that shift. She was sure there had to be a better job for her somewhere and equally sure it wouldn’t be easy to find it. Emma never thought of herself as having it easy while growing up—she held part-time jobs during high school and college, went to college on loans and scholarships, but she was given an old car to use to get to school and work. Still, she’d had it a lot easier than Riley had.

Her first couple of years in New York had been a real eye-opener—urban living was incredibly expensive. But she was a beautiful, single young woman in a city full of them and in no time she had roommates. She took the subway, learned all the cheap haunts for entertainment and had dates—quite a few of them. The thing about New York City—she never felt alone.

And here, in her two rooms in Sebastopol there was an interesting transformation—the girl who had wanted to design and decorate the interiors of mansions and five-star hotels found living simply to be a welcome pleasure. There was no flab in her life, no unnecessary junk to carry.

She had one dinner with Lyle and Ethan and it had been passably friendly on Ethan’s part. She visited with Penny when Penny was enjoying the patio, but fall was approaching, the weather was getting cooler, so Penny wasn’t outside as much. Penny’s car was often gone; she was a very active senior and had many friends.

Emma walked through Sebastopol on her days off, anonymous and reluctant to look for work there for fear she’d alert them that the notorious widow was among them. She answered every ad for work in Sonoma County that paid more than minimum wage.

Sebastopol was lovely; old buildings and storefronts were brightly painted, many with their wares and fresh fruits and vegetables on sidewalk display. Ethan liked to put out big pots of fresh blooms, and Emma stopped there often, complimenting him lavishly, fully intending to win him over to her side. She loved buying two apples, two tomatoes and one banana at a time. She even occasionally splurged on a small bunch of flowers and when she did, she noticed Ethan gave her a discount and Lyle smiled slyly.

And, after eight weeks, when the leaves were just beginning to turn, she went home from Burger Brain-Bleed, hungry and swollen, smelling like grease and body odor, and lay down on her bed and cried. If this was what her life was going to look like from now on, she wasn’t sure she had the stamina for it. And she was damned afraid if she started dipping into her precious nine thousand dollars, she could end up homeless.

Spoiled, the devil on her shoulder chided her. You said walking away from the money was the least of your concerns, but did you really mean it? Because here you are, working for a living like the rest of the world and you can’t take it!

She was immediately ashamed. So she got in the shower to cry, trying to hide from her conscience. Then she got out and dried her hair and heard that voice again. If you think it’s hard busting your ass for minimum wage, think about how you’d feel when you learn your life savings is gone. That it was spent on a second home in Aruba and a private jet.

“I can’t do this,” she said aloud. “Please, it wasn’t my fault. Please.”

* * *

The next afternoon, while she was wiping down tables in the burger joint, she saw a familiar face. Actually, she saw the familiar back of a head. She knew it was him; she’d know that thick, willful brown hair anywhere. Adam Kerrigan, Riley’s brother. He was with a teenage girl who had to be Maddie, Riley’s daughter. She took a couple of steps, smile on her face, then stopped herself suddenly. What if he hated her? Adam had kept in touch for a while after Emma’s falling out with Riley, but when she married Richard she didn’t hear from him anymore.

But why should he hate her? Because of what Richard had done? Would he, like so many others, assume she knew what was going on? Or that she had some stash just waiting for the heat to fade? Let’s just find out, she thought. Let’s find out right now.

“Adam?” she asked.

He looked up, his mouth full of burger. His eyes were round and surprised. He chewed and swallowed quickly and the girl covered her mouth as she laughed at him. He wiped his lips with a napkin. “Emmie Cat?” he asked in disbelief, falling back on an old pet name he’d given her when they were kids. It was short for Emma Catherine.

The nickname reassured her and made her smile. “It’s me. How are you?” He started to get up. “No, no,” she said with a laugh. “Don’t get up.” And she slid onto the plastic bench at the table across the aisle from him, hanging on to her cleaning rag.

“You work here?” he asked.

“I do,” she said. “And believe me, I do work. No wonder this place runs on teenagers. They’re the only ones with the energy to keep up. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. Emma, this is Maddie. Maddie, meet Emma Shay. We went to school together.”

“Although he’s much older,” Emma teased. He was, in fact, three years older.

“How long have you been back?” he asked. And he asked with a distinct absence of hostility.

“A couple of months. Remember Lyle? He found me a little place I could rent and it seemed like the logical thing to do.”

“Of course I remember Lyle. I see him all the time. How is it? Being back after all this time?”

She shrugged. “Tough,” she said. “But tell me all about you. I confess, I haven’t been in touch so I have no idea—”

“Excuse me,” Maddie said. “I’m going to take a quick run to the ladies’ room while you two visit.” She grinned impishly. “I’ll try to stretch it out.” And with that, she slid out of the booth and left them alone but for the half dozen customers at the counter.

Emma smiled. “She’s so beautiful, Adam. And so sweet.”

“She is,” he agreed.

“And how about you? Did you marry?”

She thought his expression was sweet and maybe a little sad. “I came close a couple of times, but it wasn’t in the cards. Uncle duty keeps me busy enough.”

“Isn’t Jock around?”

“Sure, he’s around now and then. He was briefly married when Maddie was very young and...well, no one knows better than you how hard it can be if the chemistry isn’t right with the stepmother...”

Only too well, she thought. And suddenly she fought tears. Not because she was faced with the child of her best friend and boyfriend. Ex-friend and ex-boyfriend. Conceived while she was away at college. “Wow,” she said, her eyes having gone a little liquid. He would probably think she wept from some long-ago broken heart, but that had nothing to do with it.

Adam surprised her by reaching out, putting a big hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have stayed so out of touch, Emmie Cat. Fifteen years is too long for old friends.”

“Uncle Adam,” she said uncomfortably, looking down and giving her eyes a wipe.

“Well, it turns out it really does take a village,” he said with a laugh. “Riley, me, my mom, Jock—it was a community effort. Worked out pretty well,” he added. “Maddie is an awesome kid.”

“I bet you’re an awesome uncle.”

“I do my best. I teach high school so I’m kind of an expert on her species. And Jock works at an electronics store so we have all the phones and toys and laptops we need.”

“The same store he worked at way back when?” she asked.

“Same one, but he’s a manager now.”

“And you’re still teaching?” Emma asked. “I guess you chose the right profession if you’re still at it.”

“I think that’s a yes. Listen, I’m sorry about everything you went through. Condolences, Emmie.”

“Thank you.”

“There were a hundred times I thought about getting in touch, not knowing how you were holding up. When I did finally get to it, your number had changed so I just checked with Lyle now and then. Everyone knows you had nothing to do with anything...illegal.”

“Thank you, again.”

“We were just talking about you a few weeks ago, wondering if you had made it back home. We were remembering the old days.”

“We?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Me. Mom. Riley. This is a coincidence, running into you here, like this.”

A tall, skinny kid came over to the table. “Taking a break, Ms. Shay?” he asked.

“Just answering a couple of questions for a customer, Justin.”

“Can I help?” Justin asked, turning to Adam.

“I don’t believe so,” Adam said authoritatively. “I’ll just take a moment of Emma’s time. If you’ll excuse us.”

Justin looked taken aback, but then he turned and left them.

“He’s a despot,” she quietly informed Adam. “But jobs are in short supply, it seems.”

“Could you use a letter of recommendation?” he asked.

She stood. “I could use a do-over,” she said. “But thanks for asking. Do you teach around here?”

He shook his head. “Napa. High school science. I’m playing a little hooky with Maddie today. We were at the DMV so she could take her test for her learner’s permit. Riley wanted to do it but the truth is, Riley and Maddie don’t do well in the car together so Maddie prefers driving with me or with Jock, and he’s working this afternoon. Of course Maddie couldn’t wait. When do you get off work?”

“Not until nine, why?”

“We should have a cup of coffee or glass of wine, talk about how you’d like me to word that letter of recommendation.”

Maddie was back, sliding into their booth.

“Oh...ah... Listen, you don’t know what you’re suggesting...”

“I don’t? Why not? We’re still friends, right?”

“It’s not that... Well, it’s partly that since, you know...” She took a breath. She wasn’t going to say in front of this sweet fifteen-year-old, That’s my boyfriend’s baby and probably the major reason I went off the rails in the first place. She leaned closer to Adam. “Take a whiff of this place. This is what I smell like after work.”

He threw back his head with a hearty laugh. “See you later,” he said.

She meandered back behind the counter, kind of dazed. Half of her wanted to run and hide—being around Adam would only serve to remind her of the past and all she’d lost. But the other half was elated. Could she and Adam be friends? They’d talked a few times after Maddie was born, but their conversations had been so superficial, both of them afraid to let the standoff she had with Riley taint the relationship she had with Adam, who she had always so admired. Truth was, she’d always wondered if Adam had kept in touch out of guilt over what his sister had done.

She’d done all right in the friends department during college and her first years as a single woman in New York, but she’d always kept people at a safe distance, afraid to trust again.

That was perhaps the deepest wound of all.

* * *

Emma’s earliest memory of Adam was him standing by the fence outside the school playground to make sure Riley got home all right. Even before she realized she liked Riley, she wished she had a big brother like Adam. When she left Burger or Bust that night, he was across the parking lot, leaning against the hood of his SUV, arms crossed over his chest. Waiting. He looked like an older version of that twelve-year-old boy. Except he looked a lot happier now, like maybe the chip on his shoulder was gone.

Yeah, that’s what it had been—that serious, stubborn, perhaps fearful boy in his scuffed shoes and torn jacket, left to take care of the family after his father had died. Emma had worried about this faux date all afternoon until she saw him and then realized she was always thinking about herself, her troubles. She was always afraid of being found out, exposed, blamed. But Adam had been only a kid when he lost a parent, but a kid old enough to understand and remember his loss. And he’d been so brave, always looking out for his mother and sister. He was right there at St. Pascal’s until high school, but even when he was older and went to a different school, he was so often on hand to watch over Riley. And Emma, as well.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said. “You have a date with someone who smells like burgers and fries.”

“I think we’ll get through it. How do you feel about a glass of wine or a drink?”

“I’d love a glass of wine.”

“Great. Where do you hang your hat these days?”

“A little spot in Sebastopol. Not too far from Lyle’s.”

“Perfect. I know just the place, right on the way to your place. Follow me?”

“I’m parked right over there. The Prius.”

“Let’s do it,” he said.

She followed him along some of the back roads toward her little town, but he turned down an alley and she got a little confused. Concerned. But then he parked behind what she thought, by the twinkle lights strung between the boughs of trees, must be the patio of a restaurant. The Cellar, the sign on the back gate said. He got out of his car, she got out of hers and he opened the gate to a patio. There were a half dozen tables; a couple of women sat at one, wine and fruit before them, but it was otherwise deserted. “They’re going to close soon, but we’re friends. I’ll get us some wine, something to snack on and they’ll say good-night before they leave.”

“Huh?”

Adam chuckled. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“No,” she said. “I usually just have a sauvignon blanc.”

A woman wearing an apron came out of the back door. “Just in time, as usual,” she said. “How are you, Adam?”

Adam leaned toward her to kiss her cheek. “Excellent. Kate, meet my friend, Emma.”

“Nice to meet you. What can I get you?”

“Get us a bottle of Napa Cellars sauvignon blanc, a half wheel of Brie with some crackers and fruit, two waters. And thanks.”

“Just give me two minutes,” she said.

He held out a chair for Emma. “What kind of place is this?” she asked.

“Just a small wine bar. I’ve known the owners for a long time. For friends and relatives, they say good-night when they lock up, we take the bottle if there’s anything left, leave the glasses on the table and slide the dishes and leftover food right through that little serving slot so the birds don’t invade. They’ll close in about...” He looked at his watch. “I’m sure they’re cleaning up now and will be out of here in fifteen minutes.”

Sure enough, Kate was back instantly with the wine, glasses, a tray of food. Right behind her a young man followed with a bucket of ice on a stand, placing it beside the table. Kate opened the wine and Adam indicated that Emma should taste. And she presented a bill. Adam signed off on everything and thanked her. Before Kate escaped into the bar the women bid her good-night and went out the back gate.

“Why couldn’t I have found a job in a place like this instead of Burger Buster?” Emma said.

“This particular place is run by a family and I think you have to marry in, but it’s perfect, isn’t it?”

“I think I have to broaden my search, now that I have restaurant experience, if you use the term loosely.”

“Listen, I want to hear all about it—your return, your job-hunting, anything you feel like talking about, but we have to get one thing out of the way first. Maddie. She doesn’t know that you were Jock’s girlfriend or that you and Riley were best friends and...that whole complicated mess. She’s innocent of that.”

Emma considered this for a second. “Jock and Riley never told her the details?”

“Emmie, I don’t think I even know all the details, when you put it that way. I didn’t have any trouble guessing. Riley and Jock never married. They weren’t even together when Maddie was born.”

Her mouth fell open. All these years she had this mental image of Riley and Jock, young and in love. Of course she knew they hadn’t stayed together, that he’d gone on to marry and divorce another woman, but she thought that for at least a while they were a couple. “You’re kidding!”

He shook his head.

“Doesn’t that just figure?”

“What are you saying?” he asked her.

“Well, my half sister and stepsister, Drizella and Anastasia, couldn’t wait to bring me the news that my best friend was pregnant and planning to marry my boyfriend, but they never mentioned the happy couple didn’t stay together. I found out later, of course, but not while I was hurting over it. Because, hey, that might’ve made me actually feel less...” She stopped herself. “In fact, those few times we talked, you didn’t mention they weren’t a couple.”

“I tried not to mention Riley and Jock at all,” he said. “They were on and off for a little while. Maybe that’s not accurate, either—they weren’t together. They tried to create an amicable relationship for Maddie’s sake, but they never even lived together. In fact, I think I’d need a chart and a graph to understand where Maddie came from because Riley and Jock were like oil and water. But I don’t want Maddie to think badly of either of them. Well, let me be honest, I wouldn’t be devastated to learn she thinks a little badly of Jock. He pissed me off. He got my sister pregnant and didn’t exactly step up to the plate. He was pretty useless back then, but he was just a kid. And he is her father. I’d rather we all get along. And I don’t want Maddie blindsided by a lot of nasty gossip.”

“I won’t be saying anything, Adam. I’d prefer to forget it ever happened,” Emma said. “At the time, it was awful.”

“I think it’s safe to say a lot of people were hurt.”

“You’re in luck. If anyone remembers me they will have much juicier stuff than my best friend and boyfriend getting together while I was away at school sixteen years ago. All the same, Riley and Jock should explain it to her before anyone else does.”

“Of course. The minute she’s capable of understanding at least a little bit. I’m kind of an expert on teenagers. Girls Maddie’s age are filled with a kind of tragic drama and fatalism that can easily cast them in a dark place. I’ve watched it. We’ve had our challenges as a family and it hasn’t always been easy, but one thing we did manage. We managed to make sure Maddie never felt like a mistake. She always felt loved and wanted. I think.”

“It never came up?” Emma asked. “Didn’t anyone ask how Riley ended up having Jock’s baby when he was supposed to be my boyfriend?”

“I only recall once or twice. Riley said you and Jock had broken up when you went away to school, which was at least partially true. It’s been a long time—I just want to be sure Maddie always feels secure.”

How lucky, Emma thought. Since she was just a kid she had known two things about the Kerrigan family. They had very obvious struggles; life for them had never been easy. But they had enough familial loyalty and love to glue them together. Emma had always envied that because she’d never had it.

Emma’s problems began long before she lost her boyfriend to her best friend.

* * *

Emma was a bit too young to understand her placement in the family when her father married Rosemary Caliban, but it didn’t take her long to instinctively know she was only loved by her father, and her father was a lonely, unhappy, broken man.

His wife gone, John Shay married someone who appeared, on the surface, to be a good match. A woman who was willing to help raise Emma. But Rosemary was a stern woman with a mean side and a streak of jealousy a mile wide. She brought a daughter to the marriage, produced a second and clearly preferred both of them to Emma. Once Emma was an adult and could look back on it she supposed it didn’t help that people often remarked on how pretty she was. And her daddy couldn’t stop himself from commenting on how much she resembled her late mother, with her chestnut hair and large dark eyes. Rosemary undoubtedly despised hearing that, and who wouldn’t?

Emma remembered Rosemary doing subtle things to show her favoritism. She’d fold Anna’s and Lauren’s clothes and toss Emma’s on the bed, took her two girls shopping and to lunch while Emma was with Riley, never inviting her. Emma even suspected the gifts she got at Christmas were of lesser value and almost never fit. Rosemary would help her daughters with the kitchen cleanup when it was their turn but Emma was left on her own. When John Shay stepped in to help Emma, she knew he had noticed and that made her feel worse, not better. When her father died it was the Kerrigan family that comforted her more than her own. It was obvious Rosemary didn’t miss John much.

It wasn’t long before a man moved in—her new stepfather, Vince Kingston. Vince wasn’t gentle and sweet like her father had been. He was a crass idiot who made crude and suggestive remarks to his new stepdaughters, but Rosemary just ignored him. Emma gave him a wide berth, as did Anna and Lauren. Emma wasn’t quite sure where she belonged. Or if she belonged anywhere at all.

That was always an issue with her, that she had no real family. This seemed especially important during her high school years, and when her father died...it seemed hopeless. She felt so self-conscious, as if everyone at school knew she was basically an orphan. And who was there for her through the confusion and sadness? Riley, Adam, their mother, June, and Riley’s grandparents. They were the family she always longed for.

It was like Adam was always watching over them all.

* * *

On her second glass of wine, fortified with a little cheese and fruit, she asked him about his grandparents. She knew they had passed away, but hadn’t heard until they’d been gone awhile.

“Well, Grandpa died when I was twenty-two. He wasn’t sick long. Cancer took him quickly. Gram just went along, died in her sleep a year later. I was twenty-three and had just finished my teaching degree. My grandparents left the house to Mom, of course. It took me five more years to move out, get my own place. Riley and Maddie took a little longer and for the life of me I’m not sure why they even bothered—they’re at Mom’s all the time.” He laughed. “But then, so am I. I check on her a lot. I do the guy chores around the house and try to take her out to dinner regularly. I hate her always cooking for all of us, even though she loves to cook. She volunteers with a bunch of church ladies, taking meals to the elderly and infirm.”

Emma looked down. “I missed your family. Your mother most of all. I think she was more family to me than Rosemary ever was.”

“And she misses you. You know, it wouldn’t look like you’re giving in to stop by the house and say hello. There’s no commitment involved. It might be time to rethink this feud.”

She laughed uncomfortably. “You don’t understand. I’m not angry anymore. It’s just... We can’t be friends again, Adam.”

“Who? Me and you?”

“Oh, I like the idea of being your friend,” she said with a little laugh. “Especially since you know these nifty little hideaways where you can have wine under the stars. But I can’t have you trying to work things out between me and Riley. We’re done.”

He gave her a steady, half-amused look. “Really, Emmie Cat? After all you’ve gone through in the past few years, you’re worried about friendship with Riley?”

“We wouldn’t trust each other anyway...”

He laughed. “It’s been over fifteen years. You don’t have to trust her. Who cares if you trust her? You don’t even have to like her. But when you think about things, you’ll figure out she was never your enemy.”

“She wasn’t exactly my friend!”

“If she’d been a better friend, maybe you could’ve married Jock. I’m sure that would’ve been great.”

“Compared to who I did marry? Might’ve been, yeah! At least it wouldn’t have been Richard. But determined to have a better life than the one I left behind, I—” She paused for a moment. “All right, all right,” she said. “Don’t think I haven’t looked at it from that angle. But please, don’t get ideas about reuniting us.”

He put up his hands, palms toward her. “Heaven help me.” He took a sip of his wine. “The truth? I wish the two of you could make amends. You were always stronger together than apart. I refuse to believe you still mourn the loss of Jock. It just seems that now, after everything, staying mad at my sister wouldn’t be very high on your list of priorities.”

After what she’d been through with Richard, there was a part of her that wished she’d married Jock, let him ruin her life, that she’d never left California, never met Richard. She shook her head. “That’s certainly true—my priorities are completely different now. And I don’t really think of our situation as a feud. I’m sure if we ran into each other we’d be perfectly cordial. Even friendly. But the days of slumber parties are over. I have to get on my feet. I didn’t think I’d start off with a great job, but I thought I’d get a decent job, even after not working for nine years. I have a degree. With my experience, I could make a damn good concierge or event planner. Turns out that even though I didn’t do anything wrong, I also have a shady past by association. Even though I wasn’t arrested, people don’t trust me. They’re afraid I was his partner in crime. After all, he had several employees who rolled over on him, took deals to testify. People suspect me, think I didn’t testify because I was protecting him. I didn’t testify because I had nothing relevant to say. Let that be a lesson to you, Adam. Don’t hang around with felons. Sitting in the courtroom while they’re being tried might help them, but it won’t do much for you.”

“Why’d you come back, Emmie?” he asked. “I thought you’d disappear and we’d never see you again.”

“I had nowhere to go,” she said. “Oh, I thought about going somewhere I could be unknown but you know what? Someone’s going to figure me out eventually and then it’ll only be worse. I will have added deception to suspicion. Besides, my credentials are in my name! And I couldn’t stay back there. I was a leper. Not only couldn’t I even get a job with McBurger back east, there were also hostile people who wanted revenge on me just for being associated with Richard. I was in hiding for months. Around here I’ve found some resistance, but I did manage to get a job. A small job, but a job. Maybe when people see I’m a hard worker, it’ll ease up. I’m a little afraid to think about how long that might take.” She took a sip of her wine. “I have to admit, I didn’t think it would be this hard. Have you ever tried to make it on minimum wage?”

He just gave her a wan smile. Of course he had. When they’d moved to town, June had worked two jobs—cleaning houses and waitressing. She worked all the time. Emma remembered when June soaked her feet at the end of a long day, so sore, so weary. And that after just losing her husband.

“How’d you end up with Richard Compton?” he asked.

“Oh, the usual way. I met him when I was out with friends. In a restaurant. I was in the bar with my girlfriends and he was having dinner with clients. We had a nice conversation. He was clearly interested, which was flattering. He asked for my number and I wouldn’t give it to him. I took his business card but he intimidated me, so I didn’t plan to call him. A few weeks later he showed up in the store where I worked—he’d been back at that restaurant and one of my friends told him where I worked. I made him work really hard for a date, but honestly? I was completely smitten. Richard was very handsome, very classy. So charming. You don’t weasel people out of a hundred million dollars by being an asshole. He could charm the pants off anyone.

“I didn’t know how rich my husband was when I married him. I mean, I knew he was successful and lived well, but I didn’t know much more than that. I certainly didn’t know he was getting rich illegally. Had I known, do you think I could have stayed with him? But it’s not like I ever saw a tax return. I didn’t have a key to a safe-deposit box or anything. I didn’t know there was a safe in his study. I guess because there was another larger and visible safe, the police never expected it, either. It was hidden behind a bookcase. Richard was not what you’d call transparent.”

Adam frowned. “Didn’t you sign the tax return?”

She shook her head. “We filed separate returns—Richard took care of it. There was a prenup, a generous prenup that would settle me with more money than I’d ever know what to do with. Of course I came to understand about his wealth, that he could afford almost anything. He never questioned what I needed.”

In vitro, Emma? What the hell. Knock yourself out.

But, Richard, you’ll have to have a few tests...

No problem. I’ll schedule us with the best doctor in the city.

“This is a whole new world,” she said. “No one is going to pity me, learning how to live on two hundred a week after nine years with a Manhattan apartment and a vacation home in the islands. But... Well. Once I get a second job or a decent first job, things should be easier.”

Adam smiled at her. “I’ll keep my eyes open,” he promised. “If you find something around here and need a strong letter of recommendation...”

“You’re going to say you’re pretty sure I’m not a bad person?” she asked.

“I’ll say I’ve known you almost my whole life and have always known you to be strong, smart, honest and reliable.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and withdrew a card. He wrote something on the back and handed it to her. “My cell number. I don’t very often find myself at the Burger Bomb in south Santa Rosa. Call anytime.”

She turned it over and saw it was a business card. Kerrigan Cleaning Services. Industrial, business, residential. Riley Kerrigan, President and CEO.

Emma looked up into his eyes with a question.

“The work is hard but she pays over minimum wage and promotes from within the company. She’s a good leader.” He shrugged. “If desperation for rent and food ever take precedence over bad feelings about the past.”

“Never gonna happen, Adam,” she said, handing back the card.

He closed his hand around hers, refusing to take it. “The first thing you’re going to have to learn about scrabbling to get back on your feet—never turn your nose up at an opportunity. Especially for pride’s sake.”

“You’re reading me all wrong,” she said. “I don’t have any pride left. But I do have to protect myself in the clinches.”

“As you should. And know this—my sister has done a lot for women, women like you who are trying to get on their feet, start over, build a functional life and their self-esteem, usually out of the ruins of divorce or being widowed.”

“You’re proud of her,” she said.

“Oh, yes. Riley amazes me. Keep the card. It has my number on the back.”

She slid it into her purse, thinking it would be a cold day in hell before she’d ask Riley Kerrigan for help.

The very next day the mean little tyrant at Burger Belch fired her.

Chapter Four

Riley Kerrigan ran a tight ship and an efficient workplace. She kept her office in Santa Rosa, for easy access to Marin County, San Francisco, Davis, Napa Valley. It had been her goal from the start to service companies and individuals who could afford the best. The fact that this demographic was also the most difficult to please, the greatest challenge, was irrelevant to her. She was confident she had the best service providers.

There were only two full-time office staff: Riley, and her secretary, Jeanette Sutton. She had had five rooms—a spacious office for herself, a front reception area for Jeanette, an office for Brazil Johnson, the CFO and numbers woman, a conference room for meetings and a small lunchroom and restroom. Brazil was rarely in the office; she worked from home whenever she could. Riley’s director of operations, Nick Cabrini, worked in the field, but there was space for him in the office if he needed it, either in Brazil’s office or the conference room. Makenna Rice was the head housekeeper and trainer; she used the conference room occasionally.

Riley kept an office because customers responded to it, particularly business clients, although some home owners also liked to see her base of operations. It gave her credibility. Nick drove one of the company cars; he dressed sharp, carried a computer in his expensive briefcase and when he gave estimates or checked on cleaning crews he looked professional. She had two hundred employees, most of them part-time by choice. Some of her full-time employees took care of the same properties on a regular basis. She had night crews who cleaned office buildings, day crews in residences and crews on call for emergencies like fire or flood damage—regular hazmat duty. Her liability was high and well managed, her income was in the mid hundred-thousand range, her business net worth was now extremely high, her mother’s house was paid off, her retirement savings gaining strength, Maddie’s college fund nearly maxed and her state of mind—excellent.

It had been a long time coming. Many years of eighty-hour weeks.

When Riley was eighteen and a new high school graduate, she took a few classes at the community college that very summer and helped her mother with her housecleaning jobs. Back then they worked for cash, under the table, and too often they were treated like they belonged under the table, out of sight. Customers would take last-minute trips or vacations and forgo housecleaning service for a couple of weeks, not paying them. Clients complained about the cost; they added duties without making preparations in advance, without asking or offering to pay extra. “Oh, June, I have to run a couple of errands. You don’t mind keeping an eye on little Eric, do you?” or “June, I’m way behind on the laundry, can you pitch in?” and “Junie, darling, looks like it’s time for a good window washing.” And as far as Riley knew, her mother hadn’t had a raise in at least ten years.

“We have to fix this business,” Riley had said. “Even some of your oldest customers take complete advantage of your good nature.”

“I think of some of these people as my friends. I just like to help when I can,” June always said.

“Well, they don’t think of you as a friend. They treat their friends with far more respect, so don’t be fooled. And none of them are worried about your retirement. We’re going to find a better way to get it done and earn a decent living. And maybe a little security.”

Riley set up a business plan at the age of eighteen, recruited a couple of college girls who were going to school part-time just as she was, got a business license for two hundred dollars and went looking for more clients. She called her company Kerrigan’s Kleaning and had business cards printed. At first, she didn’t have any overhead except the personal time it cost to do paperwork because Riley was paying taxes, social security, salaries and issuing 1099 statements to employees. Within months Kerrigan’s Kleaning was humming along and even growing.

Then she got pregnant.

What a dark, terrifying time that was. Emma abandoned her, which came as no surprise, and Jock was suddenly MIA. He offered to give her money for an abortion, then he offered to marry her, but he had a black eye in the suspicious shape of Adam’s fist. She turned down both offers. She did threaten to sue him for support, however, because in all areas she had a mind for business. She remained at home with her mother, brother and grandparents, where she had loving support.

She continued to work with her cleaning service. The bigger she got, the more she thought she’d better make this idea work because there was certainly no man waiting in the wings to take care of her. In fact, not only were Jock’s support payments spotty at best, he didn’t even show up at the hospital when she went into labor. Adam and her mother were with her, her grandparents waiting in the hall.

Jock came much later, after her family was gone, and though she tried to forget it, the image of him crying as he held the baby was forever burned into her mind. But she wasn’t falling for his malarkey again.

The whole pregnancy was emotionally difficult and Riley felt she’d ruined her life with one terrible choice. But when she saw Maddie’s perfect little face, everything changed. She might’ve had regrets, but now she also had purpose. And she worked like a demon because she had a daughter, and her daughter was going to have a devoted family, a good home and opportunities.

Jock started coming around after Maddie was a few months old, and the hurt and anger were almost too much for Riley. How dare he pretend to act like a father now! Every encounter was a strain; they fought and sniped at each other and not to be left out, Adam got into it, threatening Jock. Maddie was about nine months old when they had a blistering fight because Jock wanted to take her to his mother’s house so his family could meet her, and Riley said she’d be damned if he was taking her anywhere.

“Stop!” June said. She took the baby from Riley, passed her to Grandma and sat the three of them at the table. “Don’t anyone say a word if you value your life. That child is a happy baby who will live to be ninety if I have my way. But if all she hears from her parents and her uncle is fighting, what do you think that will do for her self-esteem?”

“We don’t have any joint custody thing going on here,” Riley snapped.

“You have money for a lawyer?” June asked Riley. She turned to Jock. “Do you?”

“If he wasn’t responsible enough to take care of the mother, what makes you think he’s responsible enough to take care of a baby?” Adam nearly shouted.

“Do you want this little girl to grow up wondering who her daddy is?” she asked Adam. “Or wondering why her mother and uncle kept him from her? This stops here and now. We don’t raise voices around her, and Jock deserves a chance to grow into a good father. Part of that is spending time with his daughter. And if you two keep bullying him the only one who will suffer will be Maddie.”

“I just want to do the right thing,” Jock said.

“Too late!” Riley and Adam said. And then they both said, “Sorry,” as they saw June’s black scowl.

“Of course you can take the baby to your mother,” June said. “First you have to learn the car seat, and I’d make you show me you know how to change a diaper but since your mother will be there, I think we’re safe. I’ll make you up a bottle and I want you to have her back in three hours. After today there has to be notice, Jock. Riley’s a good mama and she is not the least bit flexible. Planning will be the key. We will all be cooperative and the number one priority will always be Maddie.”

“If he’d planned before, Maddie wouldn’t be here,” Riley hurled.

“Was that a thank-you?” Jock asked.

“I’m warning you...” June said.

After that confrontation, things went a bit more smoothly with Jock but it was at least a couple of years before Riley’s resentment of him calmed into a tense acceptance. This was not the life she had planned—a baby with a reluctant father who had no real love for her. And the fact that she had loved him, however briefly, only made her shame burn brighter.

Her mother had said one more thing to Riley. Privately. Knowing her daughter so well. “That pride will be the end of you,” June said. “Try to put your focus on Maddie, not your injured pride. Please.”

She built herself up one emotional brick at a time, becoming a tough, professional businesswoman. Her residential service grew. When she scored her first office building cleaning contract, she celebrated. She also provided what they called a mover’s special—the cleaning of empty houses to get them ready for new occupants. That was a tough job that paid well and sometimes she, her mom and Adam would put in twelve-or fifteen-hour days to get it done. Sometimes Jock would babysit...at June’s house.

Then she started researching industrial cleaning services, instinctively knowing the real money was there—mold, water damage, fire damage, sewage and odor removal. The only things she left alone were harmful chemicals and crime scene cleanup. She contracted one team, giving them the lion’s share of her profits. But then she had them train a second team of industrial cleaners and they became hers. She ran her business from her mother’s dining room table while spooning strained peas into Maddie’s mouth and later, while helping Maddie with her spelling words and math exercises.

As a family, they had a bit of a setback when her grandparents passed, but she found that as long as she stayed ahead of the personnel and contracts, the company functioned very well. June worked part-time for Riley’s company, a few jobs a week. The rest of the time she helped raise Maddie. When Maddie was ten, just five years ago, Riley changed the name of her company to Kerrigan Cleaning Services, rented office space and cleaned up.

From that home pregnancy test to here was a long and difficult passage. But she had people she knew who, barring death, would never desert her, would always forgive her, love her as unconditionally as she loved them. Maddie, her mother, Adam. Since Jock, she had not been in a romantic relationship.

Nor had she had another best friend.

Today was a fairly typical day. She started with a meeting with Brazil and Jeanette, going over office matters. She approved billing, answered emails, took a meeting with a man who was looking for a full-time domestic for a 14,000 square foot house. He’d already been given an estimate and offered a contract by Nick but was seeing the owner, Riley, because he balked at the idea that it would require a contracted team who would be paid by the hour when additional out of contract duties came along, chores such as, “Clean up after this wedding reception held in our house and courtyard.” He could spend ten million on a house but wanted upkeep cheap. She stood firm. She let him go. He would be back.

She visited three teams on-site, found two to be managing well and one to be having some internal difficulties. It was a team of three housekeepers, two of whom had created a bond of friendship, probably behaving meanly to the third, an older woman she’d known a long time, who had been a team trainer and team leader. She’d been down this road so many times—the team leader was undeniably trustworthy with extremely high standards. The younger women wanted to get their eight hours done in six, probably cutting corners. They could take advantage of the trainer’s skills, letting her take the detail work, but apparently they were shortsighted. She could have a meeting with them, counsel them, give them pointers on working together effectively. Instead, she said, “I’ll create a new team for you, but for the rest of this week work together with no friction.”

Then she turned it over to Nick Cabrini, her director of operations, with instructions to redistribute them. All three of them. Those two snotty women who abused the older cleaner weren’t getting away with this.

The women loved Nick; her few male employees respected him. In fact, she loved Nick. He was young and personable but very rigid about their policies. He was never too harsh, that she knew of, but he was always firm. He was also bilingual. He had a good education and hoped to start a company of his own in another specialty—he wanted to get into transportation, limo and car service. But his best quality? His mother taught him to clean like a wizard. He could spot a smear or speck of dust at fifty yards.

His counterpart was Louis Spinoza, a retired firefighter who headed up their industrial restoration division. Louis had tons of hazmat experience, had worked construction on and off and, as many firefighters did, had worked a second job for years—in cleanup.

Riley grabbed a chicken salad on her way back to the office and ate it at her desk. Just when she was starting to feel that afternoon lull, who should show up but Adam. He gave a couple of raps on her door and stuck his head in.

“Is madam busy?” he asked.

She pushed her salad aside. “I’m always busy, but you’re so welcome to come in. Out of school early today?”

“Nah, I just don’t have any other duties.”

“Good, I’m dying to hear about Maddie’s driving test from an objective person. She says it took her fifteen minutes and she aced it.”

He grinned. “Twenty minutes and she missed one, but she challenged it and even showed them the page on which her answer was located. I’d have given it to her.”

“You’d give her a kidney,” she said, laughing at him.

“Well, true,” he said, sitting in the chair in front of her desk. He balanced an ankle on the opposite knee. “There is something we should talk about. I ran into Emma yesterday after the driving test. I met her later for a drink.”

Riley frowned. “Oh?” she said. “Ran into—”

“We stopped for a hamburger on the way home from the test and guess who was working there? Little paper cap, apron and all.”

“Maddie didn’t say anything...”

“She teased me a little bit on the way home. I just told her Emma was an old friend we went to school with.” He took a deep breath. “You’re going to have to tell her, Riley. You’re going to have to explain about Emma and Jock. And you.”

“Why?” she asked quickly. Defensively.

“Because it was a thing around here. I don’t know everything that went on, all I know is Jock was going steady with Emma when suddenly you were pregnant with Jock’s baby. And had a huge blowout with your best friend. A couple of families were thrown into a tailspin, all kinds of agony and grudges resulting. Riley, Maddie has a best friend. A couple of them. She needs to know what happened to you.”

“That has nothing to do with Maddie,” she said. “Maddie was born into a loving family, she knows the facts about who her father is, she spends plenty of time with him, especially when sports are involved. Maddie is secure.”

“Secure with the sanitized version of this story? First of all, someone is going to tell her someday that there was a whole lot of cheating and hard feelings going on. Probably when people who have known us almost our whole lives notice that Emma is back in town—that might bring the whole drama to mind. It’ll get so much more interesting to add that Emma left California permanently, probably at least partly because of that, and ended up married to an internationally famous con man. And second, we’ve never been that kind of family—the kind that short-sheets the truth.”

“What does it matter?” she asked in a voice that verged on desperation. “It might not have been tidy but it wasn’t complicated. Emma was gone, we were left behind, spent a lot of time together. Do I regret it? Not when I look at Maddie. But I wish Jock had been someone else’s boyfriend!”

He leaned toward her. He was patient. His handsome eyebrows tented with concern. “Riley, what you don’t want is for the question to come up. You want to make the circumstances clear to Maddie. Because of this—there were a series of unfortunate misunderstandings and events that caused some anguish, but I’d like to think things always work out in the end. I hope things can work out for Emma—she’s been through hell. I think things worked out for you. At the end of the day, things worked for me—I have a beautiful, brilliant niece. I hope Maddie has the life she wants even though she has this mixed-up family of a lot of single parents. There’s a sweet spot somewhere, Riley—that place where the good outweighs the bad. Know what I mean? That tender truth. The honest truth.”

“You don’t know what you’re suggesting...”

“You’ve become a very successful woman, Riley. You have everything to be proud of. There isn’t a single one of us who doesn’t have to own a questionable decision or two but very damn few can show how they took that one misstep and turned it into pure gold.”

“And if Maddie loses all respect for me?”

He shook his head. “Not possible. Maddie admires you more than anyone. Except maybe me,” he said, grinning. “I think I’m your biggest fan.”

She softened her expression. Adam was all goodness. All goodness wrapped up in the most beautiful package.

“What was she doing working at a fast-food restaurant?” Riley asked.

“As she tells it, it was the only job she could get. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she hadn’t had a job in ten years, outside of being married to a millionaire, or if it was because she was married to a notorious thief. She suspects the latter and I’m inclined to agree. People won’t take a chance on her.”

“Why would she tell anyone? She should have changed her name!”

“She goes by Emma Shay, but she’s not disguised. Employers are pretty savvy nowadays. They look up their applicants. They check Facebook and Twitter, just like you do. And she looks exactly as she did fifteen years ago.”

“Sixteen,” Riley said uncomfortably. Her fingers ran through her short, shaggy blond hair at her temples, smoothing it over her ears.

“Aw, Riley, you’ve always worn this thing like a hair shirt. We should’ve talked about this years ago but you were busy self-flagellating. Emma belonged to me and Mom, too, you know. She immediately knew who Maddie must be. Listen, even though you didn’t confide everything in me, I know the whole thing wasn’t entirely your fault. Last night I told her you and Jock weren’t even together when Maddie was born and she was surprised. Surprised and disappointed in Jock. This should’ve come out years ago, not last night. That’s how little communication she’s had with this place.”

Riley felt tears threaten to rise. “I tried to tell her—she wouldn’t speak to me. Lyle could’ve told her, but he was determined to stay out of it. Besides, she was busy, Adam. Flying all over the world in that private jet...”

“I have no doubt she’d have walked away from that had she known what was really going on there. I thought you’d be sympathetic. She was lied to. Everyone abandoned her.”

“And so now she’s been struck down again? Poor Emma, she just keeps picking the wrong guys.”

“Was that sarcasm?” he asked.

“I apologize. I’m feeling a little like a cornered animal. Oh, God, why am I apologizing to you? Emma doesn’t know I was flippant about her troubles!”

“I gave her your business card. I told her you paid more than minimum wage.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said, astonished. “She couldn’t make in a year what her fresh-flower budget was.”

“Was being the operative word. You might hear from her. She’s having a hard time getting by.”

“Lyle hasn’t said anything,” she said.

“Lyle has always been Switzerland where you two were concerned, which is why Emma knew so little about you and Jock. But get ready—one way or another, you’re going to run into her. Because I’m planning to see her again.”

“What? What’s that about?”

“If you two can’t reconcile, that’s your deal. I’m not angry with Emma or with you. And I want to see her again.”

“You act like you have a thing for her or something,” Riley said.

“I told you, she was my friend, too. I’m a little worried about her. It’s important to me to make sure she’s all right.” He stood up.

“Do you have a thing for her, Adam?” she asked directly. Her brother, so handsome, such a wonderful man, was rarely in a relationship even though women sighed as he passed. She had even once said, It’s okay if you’re gay, you know. And he had replied, And it’s okay if you are.

“You want to date her, is that it?” Riley asked.

“We had a glass of wine together,” he said. “It was good to see her. We talked a little bit about Maddie, about her return home after that sideshow back east, the difficulties of finding work. She asked about Mom, about Grandma and Grandpa. Except for Lyle and the old widow she rents from, she’s pretty much alone, but we had a nice hour or so together and I was really happy to see her again. While all that mess was going on in New York with her husband, then his suicide, I thought about her a lot. I checked in with Lyle now and then to make sure she was okay. Lyle was talking to her almost daily at the end—he was her sole emotional support. I should have called her. I think Lyle would’ve given me her number, but I didn’t ask. I decided to wait awhile, see how things shook out, then there was the suicide and feds all over her possessions. I think what she endured must have been unimaginably painful, worse than most things I can envision. You know that Emma, like you and I, was left orphaned when her dad died, except we had Mom and who did she have? Rosemary, that coldhearted bitch. So yeah, it was nice to see her, talk to her, get reacquainted. I offered her a letter of recommendation. I gave her your business card. She probably won’t ever call you or ask you for work, but I’m the one that gave her the card so don’t be surprised. And if you don’t mind me saying so—I think you owe her.”

“Oh, God, don’t lay that on me! I begged her forgiveness for Jock, which she did not give me, and I can’t even repeat the horrible names she called me. She didn’t leave here a broken woman, she—”

“Girl,” Adam said. “She was just a girl.” Then more quietly he added, “And so were you. You were girls.”

“Don’t do this, Adam. Don’t get involved with her. I bear no grudge but after what happened, please don’t bring her around. Please don’t tell me I owe her. Not now. I know things turned out badly for her but try to remember that while I was scrubbing floors and trying to hold it together to raise a baby alone, she went from sorority princess to New York socialite, and never sent a word of forgiveness to me.”

“Everything is past now,” he said. “She’s no longer a sorority princess or socialite and you’re no longer scrubbing floors and struggling to take care of your baby.”

She rubbed her temples with her fingertips and groaned. “It’s over and I don’t want it all coming back. Not now. Please, Adam.”

“You can’t erase the past any more than she can. But we can all live with it decently. If she calls you, you better do the right thing, Riley.”

He was really deep down a kind person, and since he was just a boy had felt most comfortable when the whole family was together. He didn’t like loose ends; he was a protector. He’d been like a father to Maddie since she was born. And there was no question, Riley would be lost without him.

“She will never call me,” she said.

“Don’t be too sure. It’s really time to lay this thing between you to rest.”

“I have no jobs but cleaning jobs. She’d have to get her hands dirty.”

He laughed. “You don’t think she got dirty in that New York life?” He was moving toward the door. “I’m just giving you warning.”

* * *

When they were kids, people were used to seeing them together. They were known as Beauty and Brains. They were both smart and pretty, but very different. Emma was a tall, slender brunette with rosy lips and eyes more commonly seen on a doe—large and dark. Riley was blonde, four inches shorter with a tight little body and crystalline blue eyes. Both were incredibly popular. And while they seemed inseparable, they spent time with other friends, as well. Emma was a cheerleader and participated in gymnastics; Riley was in choir, was a pom-pom girl and the star in the school musical—Grease. Emma was the homecoming queen and Riley, the valedictorian.

There was another difference between them that Riley was extremely conscious of—she was the poor one. Emma protested that her family was not rich and privileged, just that her father, being a CPA, was extremely good with money. Plus, his business certainly paid better than cleaning houses.

When they were in grade school at St. Pascal’s, Riley knew she looked shabby. By the time she was in eighth grade, thanks to a lot of babysitting and clever shopping, she was pulling herself together quite well. But Emma grew up in a five-bedroom house on a half-acre lot while Riley lived in a small, old three-bedroom, one-bath house that held five people. She and her mother shared a room. If Riley wanted Emma to spend the night, which was quite often, Adam would take the couch and say, “Only if Mom sleeps in my room because you would get into my stuff!” His stuff, as Riley recalled, wasn’t all that interesting.

Even that hadn’t driven a wedge between them. But Riley was only ten when she said, “My family isn’t always going to be poor, you wait and see.”

In all the years Riley and Emma were best friends, they had about three memorable fights. One was in seventh grade when Riley was invited to the first boy/girl party in their class and Emma was not. In fact, Emma was most deliberately excluded by some jealous girls. It was melodramatic and tragic and there were many tears. They were estranged for a long, painful month.

In their junior year Emma was asked to the prom by a senior and virtually abandoned Riley for the older crowd. She did her dress shopping with senior girls who were part of the new guy’s clique. Riley was crushed and sat home on prom night playing Scrabble with her mother and brother. And Emma’s prom night was a disaster—the guy got drunk and pressured her for sex, so she called her father for a ride home. At nine o’clock.

Both girls were miserable and sad. They sulked and avoided each other for a couple of weeks.

Then Emma’s father was killed in a car accident—a drunk driver.

Of course Riley and her whole family went to Emma at once, embracing her, propping her up. The girls made up and swore they’d never let such differences divide them again. Emma was so sorry she put such stock in those prom friends, and Riley was devastated that she’d begrudged her best friend good times and was so sorry things went so badly. They bonded over Emma’s grief. After all, Riley had lost her own father at an early age. She knew the pain of it too well.

Emma was left with that tight-ass evil grump, Rosemary, and her two nasty sisters whom she didn’t feel were her sisters at all.

Then came college. Emma got a partial scholarship; her stepmother said she would be able to help a little. She bought new clothes and excitedly prepared for a whole new life. Riley and Emma parted tearfully and for the first two weeks called each other constantly, missing each other desperately. Then Emma settled in, became busy, got a part-time job. She had awesome roommates, was pledging a sorority, she was overwhelmed by her classes, loved the many social events and the surrounding rush. Also, Emma, being a vivacious young beauty, was getting hit on by the college guys. Even older college guys. She confessed to Riley that she was doing a little harmless hanging out with guys, a little innocent dating that she didn’t want Jock to know about. Of course her secret was safe with Riley.

Getting acclimated to community college wasn’t nearly as exciting. Riley found it to be very much like high school, except they didn’t take attendance. Big whoop. It didn’t take Riley long to begin to feel lonely.

As Emma settled into campus life, making new friends and experimenting with her newfound freedom, she wasn’t in touch as much. She wasn’t picking up when Riley or Jock called; she wasn’t answering texts or returning calls right away and when she did, she didn’t have much time. She was always rushing off somewhere or it sounded like there was a party in the background. All she wanted to talk about was herself and all her cool new experiences. A week, then two, then three went by with hardly any contact and what contact they had was brief—just long enough for Emma to relate all the fun things she was doing. By early October she’d already made plans to spend Thanksgiving with one of her new classmates and her family in Astoria, Oregon, rather than coming home to Santa Rosa. “I saw pictures of her house, Riley,” Emma said excitedly. “I think they’re incredibly rich!”

“We never talk at all anymore,” Riley complained. “It’s like you’re too busy to be bothered with me.”

“No, of course not! Well, maybe we’re growing apart a little bit,” Emma said. “On account of going to different colleges. But we’ll always be best friends.”

Riley, who used to talk to her best friend every day, several times a day, was lost. Jock, not one to go long without a girl, was calling and hanging around Riley a lot. He said it made perfect sense for them to be going out. “You can’t tell me she’s not,” he said to Riley. “I’m not sitting home until Emma decides she has time for me.”

Looking back, Riley remembered she’d felt deserted. Abandoned. Was it too much to expect her best friend to talk to her every couple of days? Twice a week? For more than three minutes? And maybe ask her about herself once in a while?

She and Jock were commiserating a lot. Jock was always around, calling her, taking her out for pizza, inviting her to join him for their high school’s homecoming game and subsequent parties with old classmates. They were pals in their shared loneliness.

“Be careful of him,” Adam had said to Riley. “He’s been known to take advantage of girls.”

“We’re just friends,” she said.

But Riley was growing very fond of Jock. She looked forward to every call, every casual date. They stopped commiserating so much and started laughing and having fun. They met friends at pizza parlors and on the beach. One crisp fall night they drove over to the coast and had a few beers by a beach fire, just the two of them. It was amazing how much they had to talk about—Emma’s name never came up. Riley was astonished to find she was feeling far less abandoned.

She was falling for him.

“I think I might be way into you, too,” he said. “Damn, I never saw this coming! I’m starting to think it probably should’ve been me and you from the start.”

“We have to tell her, Jock. We have to tell Emma exactly how this happened. We couldn’t get her on the phone for five minutes, we started hanging out, we got closer—at first because we were both missing her. But then because we have something. I don’t know...chemistry?”

He laughed. “You think Emma cares? Go ahead—leave her a message. She’ll get back to you in a week or two.”

Then it went too far. Riley never meant for it to happen. At least not until she had thought it through much more carefully. Not until they came clean with Emma. She was telling herself it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to spend so much time with Jock, to kiss and fondle and whisper in the dark of night, but then things got out of control and before she knew it, her shirt was pushed up, her jeans were around her knees and they’d gone all the way. Before they’d been honest with Emma.

“Oh, God, I wanted us to tell Emma before something like that happened.”

“Baby, Emma could care less.”

“But I think I’m falling in love with my best friend’s boyfriend!”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “Riley, let’s just slow down here...”

“Aren’t we in love?” she asked. “All those things you were saying, that you couldn’t get through this without me and I’m the best thing that’s happened to you and you probably should’ve hit on me first...”

“Hey, shoot me for being nice, huh? Of course I care about you—who said I didn’t? That was totally up to you. You were totally into it. Just don’t say anything, all right? You don’t have to make an announcement, for God’s sake. I won’t tell her. I just don’t know if I’d call it love. Yet.”

“You have to break up with her. Tell her about us. You’re the one who started things with me, not the other way around. Aren’t you breaking up with her?” Riley asked.

“I don’t think I’m going to have to,” he said. “I think she broke up with me about three months ago. She’s partying her ass off in Seattle.”

“And there’s no grass growing under your ass, now, is there?” she threw back at him.

Four weeks later, right before Emma came home for Christmas break, she told Jock she was pregnant. She’d taken the home test and it was positive.

“You sure it’s mine?” he said. “I used a condom.”

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” she informed him hotly.

“But I don’t know that for sure, do I? Since I wasn’t with you every minute. And like I said, I had protection.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. I guess what anyone would do. You need a little money?”

She was so filled with shame, disappointment and rage she wanted to die, but she lifted her chin and said, “Go to hell, Jock.”

But really, when it happened, she had thought she loved him. And she struggled with that feeling, on and off, for a few years after that.

* * *

Adam left Riley in her office and got in his car. He thought he’d drive by his mother’s house and ask if there was anything she needed him to do, see what her plans were for the evening. He might tell her about Emma, but he hadn’t decided yet. Those dozen or so times he had gotten in touch with Emma before she got married, when she was in college and then living in New York in the city, well, he never mentioned that to his family. Or to Lyle. And it seemed as though Emma hadn’t talked about it, either. But maybe it hadn’t left that much of an impression on her.

What’s that about? Do you have a thing for her?

Oh, yeah. He had since she was about fifteen. That summer she’d gone from fourteen to fifteen—man, that was the pivotal summer in a young woman’s life—and Emma had gone from the little sister to a woman of interest.

I see the way you’re looking at Emma, his mother had said. Do not touch that girl, do you hear me? She’s like a daughter to me, like a sister to you and Riley and you’re eighteen. She is off-limits. At least until you’re both adults. This is non-negotiable. Her evil stepmother would love to throw you in jail!

But not long after she passed her eighteenth birthday, she was gone to Seattle. Soon after that Riley was expecting Jock’s baby. There was a significant part of Adam’s heart that was very happy Jock was no longer Emma’s guy, but he was smart enough to know that until Emma recovered from her broken heart, he’d better not step forward.

The next six years were a blur. Emma didn’t return to Santa Rosa except for very brief visits and he didn’t see her. He worked two jobs and went to school, his grandparents both died, he was helping his mother and Riley as much as he could. He grew very attached to Maddie, and Emma moved to New York. He always thought, one of these days...

While he was thinking that, she got married. And not to just anybody, but some internationally known millionaire.

All that had changed. And she was back.

Chapter Five

Emma didn’t qualify for unemployment, as hers had been a part-time job. She did qualify for food stamps, which weren’t called food stamps anymore. Although she had applied online, she had to invest four hours in the county welfare office, completed forms in hand. It was now a debit card that would come in the mail. Soon, they said—in about thirty days. If things went well. After her application was approved.

She judged herself against the great throng of people gathered in the county welfare office. She’d heard her husband rant about how many undeserving and entitled people took advantage of the welfare system, got all this free money without hardly trying. She felt like one of them and wondered if she deserved help. Probably not. She’d been married to him, after all. She also wondered where all that free money was and where those people who worked the system were. She’d always had visions of slick con men sauntering in and with the flick of a form, walking out with money or some other assistance. Most of the people in the office were women, more than half with small children hanging on their legs or sitting on their laps. At least half were Hispanic but as she’d read in the guidelines, they had to be documented to qualify. None looked like the type she expected. And no one looked at ease or comfortable about being there. As for Emma, she felt a little ill. Demoralized and ashamed, like further proof she’d done something wrong. But she looked better than anyone in the place. She still had some good clothes, expensive shoes and a couple of nice handbags, unlike everyone else there.

Her clothes didn’t fit so well these days. It hadn’t taken long for the extra pounds she’d gained from Burger Hell to fall off. Job searching, the stress of it and the sheer calisthenics of tromping all over hell and gone ate up a lot of calories. Not to mention the worry that she’d never be able to support herself again.

There seemed to be a lot of hair in her hairbrush these days. Was she losing her hair? She’d been grinding her teeth at night for a couple of years and she dreamed about losing her teeth. Awake, she worried about falling apart one batch of cells at a time.

She wondered what Rosemary, Anna and Lauren thought she was doing right now. How did they not have the slightest concern that she might be struggling? None of them reached out or asked her how she was getting by. When she’d been comfortable, before Richard’s investigation began, they were always front and center, her family. They’d wrangled first class trips to New York on Richard’s dime and just to save himself the annoyance of having them about, he’d put them up in a suite at the Plaza Athenee. It quickly became expected. Rosemary, the woman who couldn’t even have been bothered to take her shopping when she was a girl, called and in her sweetest voice would say, “It’s time for our annual trip to the city, dear. Will you book it for us?” And Emma had given them such generous, beautiful birthday and holiday gifts. They never even thanked her. They thought it was nothing to her. They probably thought one of her servants bought and shipped them.

The only jobs she seemed to qualify for were laborer’s positions. Waitressing paid far less than minimum wage because of the tips, which waitstaff were obligated to report to the IRS. In the end she did better for herself by not mentioning her degree; she said she was educated through high school. Stealing a little bit from Riley, she said she’d cleaned houses for work and the only reference she had was Adam Kerrigan because she hadn’t lived around here since high school.

So she took a job on the housekeeping staff of a hospital in Petaluma. After four days of training she began on the day shift, punching in at 7:00 a.m.

She made a decision, an easy one. She wasn’t about to tell anyone her story. She’d like to at least pay her bills for a while. She kept it simple. She had been married to a man named Rick—no one had ever called Richard Rick—they didn’t have children, he died of a brain injury. Hospital people took that to mean stroke or aneurysm, not a bullet. She never mentioned New York; she said they’d lived in Ohio. On the line that asked for her last address, she made up a completely fictitious address in Akron. She decided to come back to California where she grew up, where she had a few friends and some sparse family. It was a little dicey when people asked, in a friendly way, “Who are your friends? Who do you hang around with?” At which point Emma began to have secret, imaginary friends. “Oh, my girlfriend Mary Ann who I went to school with and a cousin, Jennifer, who’s married with two kids. Then there’s Ruth, my favorite aunt who’s only four years older—I’m close to them.”

The women on the housekeeping staff she worked with were exceptionally friendly, reaching out to her, warning her about the supervisor who was a dragon lady named Glynnis Carlson. Glynnis was short, wore a forty-year-old hairstyle with one silver slash in front, came upon them like an unexpected storm and without even raising her voice threatened their very lives for having a cell phone out, for disposing of soiled linens wrong, for leaving streaks on the floor or porcelain, letting their carts get overladen or worse, understocked. And that was nothing compared to the way she berated people who weren’t keeping up with their assigned area, which was very hard because nurses and aides were constantly summoning housekeeping. They didn’t help with cleaning up beds or patients, of course, but anything that hit the floor was passed on to the housekeeping staff. There were a lot of messes that hospital staff didn’t handle. The horrid ones.

“Be glad you’re not in the ER or the operating room. Wear a mask and never work without gloves, just change them out,” advised Barbara, one of the cleaning staff who had been around for years. “Wrap as much mess as possible in the linens, careful not to get any plastics or papers in them, get them down the chute fast as you can. Let it be laundry’s problem. They transfer it all with big sticks and hooks.”

There was a lot of that in a hospital. The doctors passed it off to the nurses, who passed it to the orderlies and aides, who passed it to housekeeping, who passed it to laundry.

It was hard, ugly work, but steady and among decent people. Emma had never been shy of hard work and she was growing confident and a little bit happy. She had work. She had just enough money and didn’t require much to live on. Life in her tiny bungalow was compact and uncomplicated. Not only were her coworkers nice to her but the patients and their visitors were also pleasant, and under the direst of circumstances—illness. Cleaners weren’t allowed to have traffic with patients—they weren’t trained for that. But there was nothing preventing them from being cordial, going for an extra water jug for flowers, calling nurses when they saw a problem. “Just don’t touch them,” the dragon lady said. “Not even if one of them falls. Switch on the emergency light and stand by.”

“Not even if they fall?” Emma asked, aghast.

“All you need is to help someone off the floor and break their neck or something. You’ll lose your job and the hospital will get sued. You never move an accident victim. You let the professionals do that.”

“Makes sense, when you put it that way,” she said.

“Think of them all as accident victims,” Glynnis said. “Just get their bathrooms clean.”

But despite these terrifying warnings, Emma warmed to the patients, particularly the elderly. Little old people were so vulnerable when ill and she found she couldn’t turn away. The old women loved her and the old men loved her more, and she just couldn’t stop herself from offering the occasional sip of water to someone who was struggling with the tray table or a glass. It pleased her to hand a wet washcloth to someone who needed it. She even stayed late and read to an eighty-five-year-old blind woman, though she was careful to ask the dragon lady for permission first.

“I’m not allowed to help you to the lavatory,” she told the woman. “I’m so sorry. But I’ll get the nurse.”

“I hate the nurse. I’d rather it be you.”

“Oh, I’d be happy to, but the housekeeping staff has been threatened with dire consequences if we break the rules, even just slightly. I’m not trained in patient care. Let me get that nurse and I’ll stay with you until she comes.”

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